The Lost Night
by Lyra Klaude
Summary: "I knew what I was getting myself into. Killua was just like any normal, seventeen-year-old boy: An asshole. A gorgeous asshole. A gorgeous, strangely mysterious asshole. A gorgeous, strangely mysterious, deliciously intelligent, heart-poundingly possessive, frighteningly daring, temper-tantrums throwing, emerald-eyed asshole. The worst kind of asshole." Killua/OC
1. Preface: The Murder

**All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owner, Yoshihiro Togashi. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

_**1. Preface: The Murder**_

* * *

_This July night—one night in a month of an endless number yet to come—was the darkness' night of take, the darkness' warped yet highly satisfying night, during which the darkness conquer and slay the god of light in the very last moments before the dawn. On the twelfth night of each month, the darkness hunted.  
_

_This particular twelfth began in a house in the southeastern suburbs of drizzly York Shin._

_Three after midnight; the optimal time for the darkness to begin hunting.  
_

_Silence.  
_

_The boy stood in the middle of the living room, where his mission just took place. Beautiful cabinets, lamp tables, a long sofa table and in one corner a long-case clock __was tick-tocking_ in a soothing monotone. The chairs were large, upholstered in winered velvet, and there were two sofas, one each side of the fireplace. 

_He could hear the wind rustling dry summer leaves in the trees. He listened to a noisy of neighborhood dogs barking doggy gossip back and forth. A car revving its engine as it sped down the road in front of the building. A group of loud wannabe thugs walking down the road, professing their toughness, all the while respecting their parents' curfews. An old hooting in the distance. A cricket chirping.  
_

_He noticed all these things, but the smells were what he always noticed first. He could detect the acrid scents of vomit and urine that clung to the floor and walls beneath the masking scents of disinfectant sprays and soap. Of course, above all these horrible scents was the bitter odor of smoke._

_These things were only tolerable because of the filthy blood that scattered all over the place, little, tiny drops of red sliding through his fingers and drumming over the wooden floor._

_Sweet, salty—warm, soon to be cold. Filthy._

_The corpses of his victims reclined dead at his feet. The father, the mother, and the big brother. It was a real massacre and he was the murderer.  
_

_The minute he calmed himself down, everything had become surreal. There was nothing unfamiliar about the blood on his hands. The sight was not an aberration. His stunned mind reeled from the sight, yet, in fascinated revulsion, he stared, loosened up a bit. Although he never believed in fortune-tellers, it was eerie how the sticky, drying blood was outlining the lifelines of his palms. He curled his hands and looked at the crusty red of his claws — on his claws, under his claws, it would take forever to get it all out.  
_

_His feet were stuck to the floor. He really couldn't tell how long he'd been rooted to the same spot, just waiting to go back to his normal self, if normal really was what he really had been.  
_

_As he lifted his right foot, the suction between his shoe and blood pool made a decidedly nasty slurping noise. Lifting his left foot, he cautiously stepped over one of the corpses. Strange relief flooded him as he stood on the rug island in the midst of a sea of red.  
_

_Suddenly and surprisingly, the vomit rose in his throat. The horrid yellow bile coming from his perplexed stomach was the only feeling he currently had.  
_

_Wiping his blood-stained face against the sleeve of his t-shirt, he looked at his reflection in the stainless steel refrigerator. White hair was matted to his skull with sweat, and all his t-shirt was tie-dyed with blood. Streaks of red were striping his face, giving him a mask of grisly crimson paint.  
_

_So much blood. Everywhere. No surface was untouched. He stared at horror and horror stared back at him. Even the kitchen ceiling had a crescent-shaped streak of splatter. The entire apartment looked like it'd been bathed with every pint. Had he lost control that much?  
_

_Maybe he was becoming a real murderer. A lifeless kid. A monster. A devil. A death maker. But the worst thing was that he actually, truthfully, undoubtedly didn't care._

_Too many random thoughts were coursing through his shocked brain. He had to hurry, leave the place, but he felt so sluggish, so mentally tired.  
_

_He needed to get out of there. Out of this catastrophic, claustrophobic room. Away from the sights and the smells. Away from the constant reminder of what he did._

_He needed to perfectly calm his nerves before making any moves. It was the way he was taught, the words his big brother had drilled into his mind: "Think, find who you are. Bring him back again."_

_Leaving the island-like safety of the kitchen rug, he stepped only on clean squares of cold tile. Slowly and carefully, he walked away from the living room and down a dimly lit hallway. _

_Then he froze, his __breath hitching in his throat_

_Startled, the assassin turned his head swiftly to find a little girl staring at him. How long had she been here? He couldn't observe her before. Nobody had told him about her. Nobody had mentioned that she'd be here.  
_

_She was sitting in the darkest corner of the hallway, staring widely, openly, unflinchingly back at him, watching every single movement he made. In return, he searched for something in her eyes. Much to his surprise, he couldn't see hate, grudge or even terror. Simple emotions he used to deal with all the time. He expected to hear some curses, some really bad words, screams, maybe a little bit of weeping. He expected anything but this.  
_

_She obviously did not see__—_and did not know_—_what he did.  


_She hugged her bent legs gingerly around her still frame when she saw him closing the small distance between them. He noticed that she was wearing a red dress, her hair was silky black, and if he looked carefully, he could see the implications of the blue and purple tints between the locks, matching the exact color of her eyes. She was only two or three years younger than him.  
_

_She didn't move an inch when he towered over her. She did nothing but stare at him as he knelt on the floor before her. And smirked.  
_

_Her eyebrows shot up, her small hands balling into fists around her knees.  
_

_Unsteadily, he got to his feet. He exhaled in an unfathomable satisfaction. Was scaring her his main intention from smirking at her like that? It made him feel peaceful and, at the same time, deliriously alive.  
_

_The little assassin took out his cell phone from his pocket to dial a number. "Done," he said in an ominously soft voice before he quickly hung up.  
_

_Cold air hit the back of his neck where he had left the window open. His exist. Turning around, he started to walk away slowly towards the exist._

_"How old are you?" He heard the soft voice of the little girl again. He stopped and turned around. She was still looking at him with her wide wondering eyes, only now she was standing on her feet._

_"Nine," he replied, blinking. "What about you?"  
_

_"I'm seven," she said. Her eyes gleamed blue.  
_

_He didn't know what he could say to her. In fact, he couldn't relate to anyone before. He didn't know how to deal with people outside his house, even if that person was a kid like him. He had no idea what to say or how to speak. He was a Zaoldyeck, after all. And the Zaoldyeck shows no emotion._

_Even for little kids like this one._

_He turned his face again, trying to ignore her. He had to ignore her. He shouldn't be talking to anyone during his mission. He shouldn't. He shouldn't.  
_

_"What's your name?" she asked him then, raising her voice purposefully; she was obviously interested in him, too.  
_

_"Killua," he answered, ignoring every voice in his head that screamed anything related to the word 'shouldn't'. "You're not scared?"  
_

_She nodded. "Yes," she said. "Can you stay with me for a while? Brother doesn't want me to leave the room before he gets back. I can't__—_" She looked down at her feet "_—_go further than this spot."  


_Killua was lost of words. Was she out of her mind? Or was she just too friendly? Did all kids just trusted other kids so easily or was she just too gullible, even for a kid?_

_But who was he to judge? He did not know what a normal kid should be like. Hell, he did not know what a normal _person_ should be like.  
_

_What would any assassin do in this kind of situation? He wondered what would his father or his brother do. They would probably ignore her and walk away—no, he would definitely ignore her, maybe even get rid of her._

_The thought sparked momentarily in his head.  
_

_But no.  
_

_He was neither is father or his brother.  
_

_He questioned himself for a short time, but then he found himself getting closer to the girl again. Kneeling on the ground again. Only he couldn't say anything._

_"I'm Yuki." Her smile brightened, and this time, he couldn't help but smile with her, too.  
_

_"Do you want me to show you my room? There are a lot of cool stuff in there." She held her palm out for him.  
_

_He just stared at it. How stupid could she be? How foolish? Killua felt too self-conscious then, shuffling uncomfortably on his feet. He brushed his hands against his pants to wipe away the lingering blood traces.  
_

_The little kid didn't wait for him to contemplate; she was just too impatient. She grabbed his arm, and pulled him with her. Their small shoes thundered in the hallway that led to the girl's room, making the place full of life. Therein lay the irony.  
_

_"Do you want to play?"_

_Odd jumbled thoughts crisscrossed his emotionally stressed mind.  
_

_ She took him to her room and showed him a scary number of dolls and toys. For an assassin like him, her room was so weird. It smelled sweet – unlike the scent that invaded him everywhere – and it was too colorful. Too colors. Too many possibilities. He did not know what it was like to have too many possibilities. _

_She asked him to sit on her bed then she started to talk, walk, dance around the place.  
_

_For the first time in his life, Killua felt the ease. The simplicity of the world this girl was living in. The normality made him jealous of this seven year old._

_Because for once, he wanted __to know what it meant to be in a world with colors. __To know what it meant to be stupid. And foolish. And just…_normal_._

_The odd, incoherent thoughts had started to get overwhelming to him. As he watched the girl, lively and imaginative, the hollow in his chest expanded and deepened, but he still wanted to stay. Stay here. Just for a while.  
_

_Minutes had left.  
_

_In the distance, he heard the sirens.  
_

_He knew he should run. He should have left the apartment a long time ago.  
_

_He stood up very fast and opened the only window that was in the room, gracefully jumping on the nearest building. Once his feet landed soundly, he slowly turned around only to see Yuki's suspicious eyes, staring at him again._

_He smiled and waved a goodbye to her, just a timid and weak wave. He wanted to say that he had a nice fifteen minutes with her, but he couldn't. _

_Weakly, she waved back to him. _

_He jumped from one building to another until he reached the place where the private jet was supposed to be. _

_And waited.  
_

_He wandered out onto the quiet streets, trying to reconcile what he saw with what he remembered. Everything seemed different, somehow. Nothing was the same-even the feel of the air, the scent of the sea breeze, the look of the stars; even the things that were supposed to be eternal, supposed to be the same now as they were ten years ago or fifty years hence-everything seemed different. It was as if something had been robbed from him-as if he had just lost his allotted share of youthful naivety and this homecoming was his rude awakening._

_The private jet landed on the building to pick him up._

_Laying his head on folded arms, he closed tired, scratchy eyes. What happened during this mission was very strange. How he went from being the killer of three grownups to being in a small colorful room playing with a seven year old girl. Yuki, who thought her family were sleeping while in fact, they were killed by his hands.  
_

_She was the one who showed him how the real seven year-old child should have been._

_And he was the one who turned her into an orphan._

_He just sat there, refusing to think about it, just letting the fresh, unfamiliar wave of guilt rush into his veins._

_Like loving, killing was a very personal thing. What you give, you can't take back. Once you've offered up to the gods of life and revelry, or demons of the darkness, you don't get to take it back.  
_

* * *

Throughout time, and as long as humans have loved, they've believed in soul mates. One person out there, tied to them, the missing piece of their soul. What else could explain that feeling of incompletion, the need to search, to scour the globe until the puzzle piece is found?

Everyone from royalty to peasants had searched, had looked into the eyes of another, wondering, 'Is it you? Have I found you?'

But fate does not intend an easy path for all. Sometimes, death interferes. Sometimes the world conspires to keep soul mates apart.

But sometimes, the bitterest pill to take is the soul mate that has been there all of your life. The soul mate who wants to consume you, to own you, to drink your strength. The soul mate that is tied to you, and you are shackled to them.

Fate dealt a cruel card to the characters of this story. This was one instance where it may have been better if the souls had never found each other, but, as always, they had been dragged together like black magnets.

Choice. The greatest gift in life was choice.

But sometimes life doesn't give you the best options.

As she walked towards her house, the girl's eyes trained on the horizon, she forced her mind to stop.

She took some deep breaths, techniques taught to her by her psychologist, and stared at the purple-smudge clouds hovering over York Shin like bruises. She deliberately relaxed her grip on her backpack's strap, the last shaft of sunlight glinting off her bright golden necklace.

She allowed the pleasure of the twilight to soothe her, and inhaled deeply to breathe the sweet, damp air. She tried to stop feeling like she was driving into a battle. Even though she was.

* * *

**Author Note: The Lost Night will be a Killua/OC story, ****but it will be a slow burn for the first few chapters.** **It will be a bumpy ride but I promise to entertain. ****This chapter is a short one, but they will get longer as the story proceeds. BUT I will _not_ take the romance slow—like, it will not start at chapter fifty—because this is not a story about 12 year olds. So I'm not taking it too slow, but it will go through so many rocky patches.  
**

**********And I may have to add that the Killua that I'm going to portray in this story is slightly different than the one you're all familiar with, for the fact that I'm writing about him five years later and during some entirely different circumstances than the ones Canon Killua had come along so far. If he occasionally sounds different to you, that's because I'll be giving him traits and mannerisms t**hat I believe would fit a 17 year old Killua. I'm not moving too far from the original, just developing it. Also, this is rated T for a reason—language, violence, gore, dark themes, and mildly suggestive themes in the future chapters. You've been warned.  


**********I write fluff. I like fluff. I enjoy it, but I also enjoy angst. Expect the story to have a lot of it. I also like surprises, and being unpredictable. Expect some jaw-dropping moments. Later on.  
**

**********What else?  
**

**Oh, the action (namely Nen): It is going to be downplayed for now, especially at first, but this is a HxH story, so this aspect surely will not be ignored. As I mentioned before, it is going to be a slow burn ****before the action scenes eventually kick in. I hope it gets you interested and feedback will be appreciated. Always.**


	2. Home Coming

**I do not own Hunter X Hunter.**

* * *

_**2. Home Coming**_

I know what anyone would expect out of a story like ours. Well, let me tell you, that is not us. Not at all. This is not the simple story of a boy and girl that grew up together, best buds, rolling over wet green grass, where the boy makes a vow to protect the girl. If you were to tell that to us we'd laugh our butts off. But the story of our meeting, our friendship, of our bond is quirky and weird. And it is full of humor and heartbreak and just plain drama.

But our story is not simple: We didn't grow together, we were not best buds, we never rolled over wet green grass, and he never vowed to protect me.

* * *

The first time I met Killua Zaoldyeck I was fifteen years old.

He was standing in front of me in the streets with a lollipop in his mouth, furiously glaring at me in the faint light of the York Shin's streetlights. I didn't know much about him, but it was easy to assume that he was quite not pleased with my presence, or probably just simply wanted to kill me, based on his 'vibe.'

My mother had described to me exactly what a 'vibe' was when I was five years old and had attempted to kiss my neighbor, Dai, for the first time. After being enrolled in ballet class – a misguided attempt by my mother to give me poise and equilibrium – and being laughed at daily by my brother for my tendency to fall down, I began clinging to Dai like a life-vest. Every class he wore a pink tutu like the rest of us, with pink princess shoes that sparkled. I was so jealous of those shoes, and yes, I was a little in love with Dai at that time.

At the end of class, I would go over to Dai's house and play Barbies with him. One afternoon, deciding it was time to take our relationship to the next level, I asked Dai to marry me. We both wore dresses to the wedding – not exactly what I had imagined, but I had gotten him to the altar – or in this case the Barbie Dream House – and that was really all that mattered. We professed our love for one another and just as I was leaning in to kiss him, he scrunched up his nose and began crying.

Then our parents found us in that condition, both of us crying because I wanted to kiss Dai and Dai didn't want to kiss me. Mom talked to me about reading the signals people gave out by their personality and body language, and apparently Dai didn't give out the 'vibe' that he liked girls in that way. This spawned a rather awkward conversation about what exactly 'that way' was.

That was how I knew that the boy with white hair and the lollipop in his mouth possibly wanted to kill me.

Well, my night did not really start off smoothly anyway.

Rain was falling profusely as I ran through the almost-empty streets of York Shin. I kept wondering how it could possibly be raining in August, but my life in this city taught me to expect anything. Anything – and I mean it when I say anything – could happen in this city, especially in this time of the month. It was almost September. September had always been one of the most dangerous months here. Not because of the abundance rain or the horrific thunder storms or the thick fog, but because of the annual auction.

I wasn't scared to walk alone or anything, but I wanted to avoid getting in troubles, not to mention that the air was wet and moisture beaded on my hair. I continued to run, trying to escape the disturbance of the weather. Mud squelched under my sneakers, ruining them, making my feet feel slimy and disgusting.

Despite my quite enthusiastic running, I was not that thrilled to reach my destination – which was my old house. I hadn't been there since I was six and I had to go through a lot of convincing with my grandmother to let me have the house keys. She was forbidding everyone in the family to walk inside that house, repeatedly telling us that it was cursed and there was an evil spirit moving around the place. Of course, I knew that was stupid, but I was nervous about being there again.

Probably because I was not a big fan of the Déjà-Vu moments, and there would be a big chance I was going to invade my brain once I get in that cursed house.

Being one of the youngest Blacklist Hunters, I was asked by my new boss to be living in a place where I could be as close as possible to the auction building, and it happened that the nearest house I could live in was my old family house. I'd been living with my uncle for the past few years after I was kind of kicked-out from my aunt's house because – according to her own claims – I wasn't having a good relationship with her daughter. Something that was fairly not true.

I think I could explain later.

Slowing to a walk, my breath fogging in the chilly air, I followed the invisible trail I had taken since I was six years old.

I swallowed, mud still squelching at my shoes.

Eventually, I made it to the tall building. To my intense surprise, I felt like I missed it, or I had probably just missed the memories. I took the stairs after immediately dismissing the thought of jumping inside the elevators. Elevators and I never got along.

I think I could explain that now.

I wasn't afraid of elevators, not particularly, but I hated to be in a small tiny room by myself. It was actually something I was ashamed to admit. If I did, people would definitely ask me to burn up the Hunter License I had. But hey, I was a human after all. I had imperfections, certainly a lot of them.

My old apartment was in the thirteenth floor. Panting slightly, I sank the key into the door and stormed in, taking a quick glance at the apartment.

Nothing had changed.

If anything, the place only had gotten dirtier, a bit darker, and very much smaller, somehow. Like it no longer welcomed anyone.

I made my way to my bedroom. The room was familiar; it had belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floor, the light purple walls, the peaked ceiling and the pink curtains. The toys and dolls that were left scattered on the floor. These were all a part of my childhood. The colorful, playful room was not _quite_ suitable for a fifteen year old girl anymore, but still, I didn't feel like changing anything at the moment.

Nothing in this house had to change.

I began to notice that the Déjà-Vu moments were happening. I couldn't bring myself to think about what happened in this apartment eight years ago; it was something I was struggling so hard to get out of my mind for the past years. It was a constant battle with myself that I always lost. I'd always felt out of step, like literary stumbling through my life because of the memory of that day.

When I finished putting my clothes in the old dresser, cleaned the house and cleaned myself, I opened the only window that was in my room. The raindrops were no longer falling.

I sat on the purple bed and unwillingly remembered that night.

* * *

_She was alone._

_There were more than thirty men moving furiously around the house. Everyone was in a confused, emotional state of mind. Talking to each other, and yelling at each other. There was so much yelling. The police alarm hasn't stopped since they arrived._

_Only one old man in a black suit was the only one who was calm, eying the place quietly. All of the other cops were all around him talking to him the whole time, he was just nodding to them. Responding with a 'yes' or 'no' when necessary._

_She just stood there in the middle of the living room, watching them silently. They all looked too busy to notice her, they only asked for her name once then they've been ignoring her the whole time._

_"This is terrible!" she heard one of the officers talking to his buddy. "Did no one see someone running out of the building with blood on his hands?"_

_"Nobody noticed anything, but how could they?" responded the other officer, "This building is full of all sorts of people coming and going throughout the day and night. A dozen of murderers could have escaped unnoticed."_

_"I told you before and I'm telling you now, it is absolutely a Zaoldyeck."_

_"Silence," the man in the black suit hissed loudly from behind the two officers, glaring at them. They flinched, and then they followed his gaze which was pointing at Yuki who was staring at them. "Enough from this, I think you two should be helping your other fellows," he ordered them calmly. Both of them reacted fearfully then they disappeared from her sight in few seconds._

_The old man knelt on the ground beside her. "Your name is Yuki, right?" he asked her in a gentle voice, but he didn't smile._

_She nodded timidly. She wanted to ask him who was he and what was he doing in her house at such a late time. She wanted to ask him about her parents; she was wondering how could they leave her alone in the house with this amount of strange men._

_She was too shy, too panic-stricken to talk to him. She just remained silent._

_"Are you sure you're not hurt?" the man asked, looking the girl before him up and down. Blood decorated almost every inch of her clothes.  
_

_The girl stuck to her silence.  
_

_"Yuki…." he called her again, his stern face troubled. "A very kind lady will be here any minute. She will be taking you to a very nice place where you can play with other kids all the time until we find out more about your relatives, okay?" he said with the same gentle voice._

_She couldn't understand what he was saying, but she nodded again. His features were so sharp and he was not a familiar face for her to talk to._

_She was sitting on her bed, where one of the officers asked her to stay and never move. They just left her alone, wondering what was happening._

_She looked at the window, she wanted to know why did he leave, the white-haired boy. They were having a good time, but why did he have to leave so quickly?_

_She sat there squeezing her teddy bear tightly as the chilly wind was making its way to her room through the opened window._

_Few minutes later, a lady with a white dress entered her room. She closed the door after her and took closer steps towards Yuki who was looking at her with relief._

_"Hey, Yuki." She gave the little girl a warm smile. "You can call me Maria," she said, still smiling._

_"Where are my parents?" Yuki finally spoke; she sensed that this lady could be someone to ask such a question. She had those motherly kind of looks._

_The lady hesitated, she took a deep breath. She was obviously trying to figure out what to say. It wasn't an easy task to tell a six year old girl that her parents were horrendously murdered._

_"Okay, let's see…." she began.  
_

* * *

I wanted to get out of the house, but I didn't know where to go. Eventually I called Marcus, a friend of mine whose house was only two blocks away. He was a great listener. He was one of those people who you could sit with for hours and forgot about your appointments, because they were just this friendly. I thought it would be good seeing him. I needed some encouragements in that moment.

I found two welcome hair ties at the same time in my bag and quickly tied my hair in pig tails. For no particular reason.

Perhaps my old room started to grow on me.

I figured it would be better if I walked to his place; it would be a chance to clear my head. It was almost nine PM and the streets were quiet, only the crazy people like me walked down the streets in this chilly weather. I passed next to a building that looked like it was holding a party inside. The music was so loud, or maybe the streets were so quiet. I stopped in front of the building, thinking about getting in. I wondered what would happen if I snuck in and invited myself for a drink.

Until I heard a feminine scream that was near somewhere. I couldn't recognize it easily with all the party noise. I followed the screams till I found them. An old woman was trying to get a man's grip off her arm. The man looked drunk and from the look on his face, he seemed like one of those homeless night-thugs. I knew I had to involve and stop him. I searched for my weapon in my back pocket, which was a sharp old knife to make sure I had it there. I knew it wouldn't be necessary; the man wasn't dangerous.

"Let go off her, you perv," I yelled from my spot. He was holding a bottle in his hand, his other hand holding the woman's arm violently.

He turned his face to look at me. "Go away," he yelled back at me. Ugh, how troublesome. I really was not in a mood to do this.

I got closer to them, hit the man's hand swiftly and freeing the woman's arm from its grip, the woman fell on the ground. She was frightened and her screams had became shaky. I nodded to her to run, she hesitated for a moment, she didn't look like those women who would leave a teenage girl with a dangerous drunk person alone in the street, so I had to convince her that I was handling this. I took out my weapon. "See, now run!" I shouted at her. Thankfully she got up and started to run away.

I wasn't paying attention to the man, I was making sure the woman was out of my sight, he took that as an opportunity and pushed me to the wall with one hand, his grip tightened around my neck. "What exactly do you think you're doing, kitten?" he hissed at me, his nasty breath washing over my face. I could hurt him, but I figured it would be better to scare him and let him go.

I just wanted to go home.

My hand found my knife but—

Suddenly, the man's body fell on the ground. He was moaning painfully, as if someone had hit him from behind. Everything was happening so fast, and I felt myself getting uncomfortable. The critical aura of the person who hit the drunk man was hard to ignore. He stood there before me, but he was totally dismissing my presence. The very tall boy held the man's bottle in his hand, a white stick that matched the color of his hair was jutting out of his mouth, the expression on his face was painfully bored. He broke half of the bottle on the wall and took closer steps towards the man who was lying on the ground.

The white-haired boy knelt beside the man. "Do you want me to take out your throat?" he threatened in a quiet voice, the words came out slightly incoherent because of the stick in his mouth. "No?" the boy promoted icily. My jaw dropped and a small shiver ran down my spine.

The man's eyes widened as they stared fearfully at the boy's face. He shook his head in refusal and it seemed like he lost his ability to use any words.

I watched him as he threw the bottle from his hand and got up. "Well, now get lost," the white-haired boy ordered the shaking man who got up quickly and started to run. It should have been tiresome, but as the goosebumps raised on my arms and the blood pulsed in my throat, it never failed to produce the intended reaction.

We watched him running stupidly in the wide streets. That was when I realized I was still standing against the wall, still holding my knife. Great. Well that was one way to spend the night.

The white-haired boy moved to pick up something from the ground that looked to me like a vest, then he whirled to meet my gaze. Now that I could see him clearly, I noticed that he was dressed up formally; he looked like he came from the party building. The fog swirled around us, and as I lifted my eyes to his face, the impact was as strong as a blow to my solar plexus. His sheer, otherworldly familiar intense eyes were astounding. It was only in the back my memory, but I was definitely aware that I'd stared into these eyes before.

His eyes glinted dark green. His expression was a strange, unreadable and equivocal. His hair was a complete nightmare; chalky, frosted, silvery, thick and messy.

He pulled out the stick from his mouth, revealing an awfully crimson, heart-shaped lollipop, and then the icy green eyes started glaring at me.

I opened my mouth to say something, but was immediately interrupted. "Are you out of your goddamn mind?" the boy practically snarled, his voice like poison, his eyes filled with anger.

"Excuse me?" I said, wondering why in the world was he mad at _me_. It was not like I _wanted_ to be attacked.

I tightened my jaw and repressed a shiver when he moved to stand right in front of my frozen form, his face a few inches away from mine. "You know you could have been killed, don't you?" he roared, the explosive sound of his voice causing a flock of doves to take flight from a nearby tree, tiny white flashes against the oppressive thunderclouds.

I arched an eyebrow back at him. "I was going to take care of that," I said, quirking an eyebrow.

His mouth twisted, as if partway through a sarcastic observation. It spread into a bitter smile as he looked me over in return, his scorching eyes raking over me. "Yeah, obviously," he said as he slid the lollipop back in his mouth and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Now throw this away before you hurt your hand." His gaze pointed at my hand that was still holding the sharp knife.

Now he started to get on my nerves. "I don't need to be saved," I argued, my tone hopefully matching his. This act of defiance deepened his annoyed expression into a terrifying scowl. He stepped away, examining my face before he rolled his eyes.

"Ugh, girls." He whirled around and stalked away, so swiftly that I had to jog to keep up.

"What is_ that_ supposed to mean?" I yelled after him.

Through the haze of my anger, I noticed that he was heading back towards the party building. "Can't you just thank me and get over it?" came his insolent, drawling reply.

I ran faster and stood right in front of him. He still looked incredibly annoyed, but a bit more surprised. "No, because you're rude," I said, hands on my hips. He was so tall I had to raise my head to look at him. He was probably a good five inches taller than me, bordering on six feet tall, which only made him appear more superior. I already hated this guy but still desperately wanted to be able to imbibe that haughty tone into my every word like he did. Something about him was a little irritating.

The white-haired boy sighed and scratched the frown between his eyebrows. "A little girl like you shouldn't be walking around York Shin's streets during this time. Now go home, drink some hot chocolate, and get some beauty sleep. You look like you need a lot of it," he taunted, gently pushing me out of his way.

Oh, I take that back—he was _very_ irritating.

The vein in my head was threatening to pop. I debated between sticking my tongue at him and giving him the finger. Figuring the former as too childish and the latter as even more unnecessary obscenity, I chose to combat him with my words.

"A_ little girl_? Who are _you_ to judge me, you jackass!" Oh but my words included name-calling.

Fortunately, my choice of words and the provocative way I said them were strong enough to make him whirl on me and face me again. He actually looked a little pissed now—okay, _very_ pissed, and completely lost of words.

"What do you want?" he asked then, obvious boredom dripping from his voice.

"I want you to apologize for underestimating me before and right now," I demanded and folded my arms on my chest. The petty, childish part of me seemed to rear its head with every remark from this oh-so familiar stranger.

He narrowed his eyes for a mere second, but that was just before he bit his lips to hide a smile. "Sorry."

I frowned and took a long, good look at him. He seemed to be a study in contradictions—the pristine, perfectly pressed suit and the messy, almost artful hair. The arrogant slouch that belied his passion for his damn lollipop. The self-satisfied smirk that—well, okay, that didn't contradict anything particularly. He was a rather smug bastard.

"I want you to _mean it_," I objected. "Come on."

Frustrated, he grunted loudly. "Why does it matter so much to you?"

"People keep saying that I'm not strong enough to take care of myself, and it sorta pisses me off. You don't know me, yet you judged me based on some stupid puritanical, antiquated, sexist archetype of 'Dudes are more responsible! Girls want chocolate!' bullshit. Which only proves just how short-sighted and paranoid this viewpoint you all guys seemed to have. It's _so_ annoying, dude. Seriously."

He stared at me. I stared back in a most defiant sort of manner. "Fine, I'm sorry." Although it seemed like he was pushing me away, he did sound honest. But that was until he muttered – not so inaudibly – the words "pain in the ass" under his breath.

"Hey, I heard that! Apology not accepted!" I pointed what was supposed to be an offending finger at him. Huh, as if he cared.

The smug bastard snorted. "As if I cared," he uttered the exact same words. And then I was seething. The ass couldn't pass up any opportunity for a jab at me, could he? It didn't help that he actually looked like he was enjoying himself, like picking up on girls was his all-time favorite hobby. With his aged white hair, parchment-like dry skin and twinkling eyes, he was like Santa Claus' evil twin.

"What is your freakin' problem?"

"Says the girl with the freakin' pigtails who just cannot get lost," he retorted.

"Oh you've got to be—" _Killua!_ "—ing kidding me!"

"_Killua!_" Someone shouted again to alert me that we were not the only people in the streets anymore, but aside from shooting the source of the anonymous voice a withering glare, as if _it_ was the reason for my rage, I didn't make a move, merely continuing my throwing-the-tantrum process at the boy before me. "None of this could have happened if you hadn't decided to go all hero-like all over my head!"

But before I could get an equally heated response to my own, a boy with a piercing spiky hairdo and ginormous eyes who was also dressed up formally appeared over the white-haired boy's shoulder. Both of them looked the same age. Spiky-haired Boy hurried to nudge Smug White-haired Boy who seemed slightly relieved when he saw him; he almost exhaled in relief. So maybe this boy only liked to pick up on girls, maybe he hated girls, maybe….

"Where have you been? We've been looking for you the whole time," Spiky-haired Boy asked curiously before his smile faded into a genuine frown. "Were you out to get more lollipops?" His question came out more like a whine.

The white-haired boy blinked and looked down at the stick popping out his mouth. "No," he mumbled unconvincingly. "I was just getting some fresh air, Gon. Relax."

Spiky-haired Boy balled his fist in front of his friend's face and smiled cruelly. Suddenly he noticed me. "Killua, who is this?" He smiled sweetly, his cheeks gaining a pink hue.

I realized that I was getting a pretty good 'vibe' from this boy.

The familiarity level only increased when I heard the white-haired boy's name, but my memory hopelessly failed to serve me.

Killua looked uncomfortably between me and his friend, his expression comic. "Umm…this is Gon." He paused for a moment. "And this is…a girl from the streets."

I glared at him, but could I really blame him? It was not like he knew my name.

The boy named Gon nodded, but his eyes registered a genuine surprise. He laughed awkwardly at his friend's introduction and held his hand for me for a genuine handshake. "Nice to meet you," he genuinely said. Everything about this boy seemed genuine.

I shook his hand firmly with a broad smile, suddenly feeling shy.

"Would you like to join our engagement party?" Gon offered. Killua spat the lollipop out of his mouth as his eyes widened horrifically. His friend had just invited a total stranger to a party.

As in, _their_ party.

As in, their _engagement_ party.

Oh. My. God. How _old_ were they?

"Oh, my God, how old are you?" I internally cringed. I was glad to have some words back in my brain, but why were _those_ the words it decided to conjure up? I did have the tendency to blurt out unnecessary stuff.

Gon didn't seem too bothered by my rude question. "Oh, it's not _our_ party. It's our friend's," he explained before he hurriedly turned back to Killua. "Which reminds me that Leorio has been asking for you. He's complaining about you not being there for him on his special day."

Killua rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly stepped out of his comfort zone. His eyes darted between me and Gon before he said, "You can go and I will catch up with you in a minute."

"Okay." Gon smiled at the two of us one last time before he let himself back inside the building.

I found myself returning the smile a little too late, so right now I was just smiling at Killua instead. "Intense party, huh?"

Killua let out another sigh. "I hate engagement parties," he conceded, his cheeks reddening, and damn that was really cute. Oh, what the hell. He perhaps wasn't as bad as I thought he would be. He perhaps was a friendly person. We perhaps could end this unfortunate meeting in an acceptable, friendly way.

Of course all of this was completely ruined by the next five words out of my mouth. "You aren't gay, are you?"

I blurted out and internally punched myself in the nose. _Oh shit._ I felt blood rush to my cheeks, closing my eyes in mortification as I internally beat myself to a pulp. Why didn't I employ some kind of filter before I said this straight out?

"Uhh, I'm sorr—"

"It's alright," Killua interrupted, unaffected. "Do you have a house?"

The question took me by surprise. "Yeah, I do." I paused. "Why?"

It seemed like he was trying to pick up the right words to say. "Do you want me to walk with you to your house or something?"

"Um…no, I'll be fine. Thank you." Shit, awkward conversation alert.

What was _wrong_ with me? I mean, yeah, the last boy I had allowed myself to fall in love with gave off the gay 'vibe,' but this guy didn't. Didn't mean that I was falling in love with _this_ guy. Damn, my thoughts were flustered and all over the place.

Apparently I also_ looked_ flustered because the next thing Killua said was, "Are you okay; you look a bit peaky."

I quickly realized that this would only bring further attention to me, so I decided against it. "No, I'm all right."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I would like to answer your question now."

"What question?"

"You asked if I was gay."

Heat flooded my cheeks once again. I had actually managed to forget about that little mishap during my excitement over escaping this weird situation.

"You blush too brightly for someone who was about to metaphorically dunk my head into a vat of ice few minutes ago." The slightest smile was visible on his lips, but his face remained composed and steadfast on me.

Well, that was funny, so I grinned back at him, a bit too goofily.

"And no, I am not gay."

I could have sworn I saw him smirk when he said that.

I internally let out a sigh, but then Killua decided to quit doing everything internally and reached his hand out to shake mine.

"I'm Killua." I nodded but seemed hesitant to reach out and shake his hand. I covertly tried to wipe my hand on my jeans, but it was still a little sweaty when I placed it in his. I couldn't bring myself to care, though, because I was actually holding hands with this very familiar boy. And by holding, I mean shaking, but really it was the same thing. And maybe it was just my imagination, but I think he held my hand longer than what was necessarily polite for the circumstance. He stared at me. I stared back. And stared. And stared. Until he said, "This is the part where you say your name." Amusement danced in his eyes.

"Ah, Yuki. My name is Yuki."

That was the first time I met Killua — minus the 'Zaoldyeck' part.


	3. Unexpected

**I do not own Hunter X Hunter.**

* * *

_**3. Unexpected**_

_He stood outside the front heavy doors of his family house, the Doors of Hades. Behind those giant hard-stoned gates was the den of the famous assassin family, where the Zaoldyecks dwelled. Hades… How suitable name it was for these doors, considering that everyone who lived behind them was really empty, lifeless, emotionally and spiritually dead. The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees. The moonlight brightly shone, dimly reflecting shades of purple on his silver toned hair as he inhaled deeply before approaching the gates to open them. For him, this whole idea about coming back home was associated with the typical feelings of fear and anger which he always felt after every mission. And somehow, pushing 4 tons with his bare hands was much easier than pushing away the guilt that was clutching at his heart and thoughts. _

_He walked rather blindly with short and slow steps in the dark forest. The wind was still rushing by, and he could only hear the sound of the autumn leaves hushing and touching each other. He kept thinking about how strange this night was. Wondering about what would happen to that fragile little girl, Yuki. It was the first time in his life that he actually felt concern and worry for someone, yet at the same time felt sorry for himself. She had the normal life he always dreamed about, the sane family he always craved to have, and she had the innocent life which he never had the chance to live. He crashed everything in her world with a blink of an eye, unknowingly turning it upside down, then he carelessly left her alone in that house. _

_He wondered what would have happened if he had met her few minutes before the murder, and before the darkness had crept into his mind. Would he do the exact same thing? He didn't know. In fact, he was completely trying not to think about it, but the face of the little girl was so hard to pass by. He was relieved that the police was on their way to the apartment, perhaps they would keep her away from coming out to the living room and noticing the dead bodies of her whole family that were reclining there. She was too innocent to have such an image deeprooted in her head for the rest of her life, because she wouldn't handle it. She was not like him. _

_He sighed. He hated to think about the fact that he couldn't do anything at the moment. He to believe how impossible it was to take back the time. He just hoped that she would stay in her room for a little while._

_As he reached the Zaoldyecks' mansion, the sun was breaking dawn. It was peeking over the edge of the world and it had brightened with an orange hue from behind Kukuru Mountain. He wanted to enter the house unnoticed though he know it was hard to happen with the sharp insticts of the residents of the house. He really didn't want to deal with his mother's nonscense, or his brothers' disturbance. He walked down the so many hallways which were awefully lit by dim neon tones, surrounded by gloomy gray walls of stone, and the smell of blood was everywhere. It teased him as the scent flowed past him and right to him. _

_"Finally," a provocative chilly voice broke the silence. "Killua, Dad is waiting for you." Illumi said with his usual cold expression. Illumi turned his back and disappeared, leaving after confirming Killua. _

_Killua stood quietly, he wasn't ready to have the-unnecessary-after-mission conversation. He knew exactly what they were going to talk about, and it was the last thing that he wanted to do. There was nothing pleasant about remembering this night, or even talking about it. _

_After knocking at the door, he pushed the reddish wood door facilely. Then he found himself in his father's room, and all the Zaoldyecks were staring at him unblinkingly which made him feel uncomfortable. If he was someone else, he knew those stares would give him the creeps. It was horrible, being in the same place with all of them. He knew how annoying each person could get, especially his mother._

_"I heard you had a mission in York Chin," Silva said with a serious voice, "Did you like the city?" The question was surprising to Killua, but he didn't show any emotions._

_"It is okay," Killua answered carefully. Staring at the ground, refusing to lock his eyes with his father._

_"Who was your targets? Were they interesting?" Silva kept going with the unnecessary questions. What was the point of knowing the answers anyway?_

_"The man and his wife were the professional spies for some company named Zymiral," Illumi answered, "The mafia called me this morning asking me to get rid of them. I thought it was better so send Killua, there was nothing interesting in their background that required two Zaoldyecks to go." Illumi took a glace at Killua. "They are dead, right?" _

_Killua looked back at him, a sudden thought popped into his head. "A man and his wife? What about their son?" He tried to sound not desperate to know the answer, but Illumi sensed there was something strange in Killua's sudden question._

_"Their son? He was not a target." Illumi asked._

_"I killed him," Killua said coldly, narrowing his eyes a bit. So, killing Yuki's brother was unnecessary just like having this conversation. _

_"Why?" Silva's eyes were filled with interest. _

_"He was getting in my way," Killua answered, and tried to put on the grave face as he continued, "I had to finish him." _

_Silva smirked proundly, Zeno's eyes smiled playfully as he got closer to face the nine-year-old Killua. He patted his shoulder and said, "This kid is going to be the best heir our family has ever had."_

_Killua remained quiet, he didn't know if that was really a good thing. The feelings of guilt were rushing back into his heart, and the scenes of this night have been engraved in his memory. It bugged him to restrain those thoughts in his mind, knowing that there would be some dangerous consequences if anyone from his family figured out that he wasn't feeling so happy about what he did. He felt the anger took over him and he found himself talking unconsciously._

_"There was a little girl," Killua said. His hands were shaking. "No one told me there was a little girl." It was his mistake to talk about her, but he couldn't control his fury._

_Illumi rose a eyebrow. "What about her?" _

_"I left her alone in that house. She is only six." Killua tried to keep his voice down. _

_"She is not our responsibility," Illumi said. "You should stop worrying about the ridiculous things." _

_Killua glared at him, but he knew it wasn't getting him anywhere to argue with any of them. He regretted it, he should have kept his thoughts to himself. _

_Silva could feel the tension growing up in the room, he stood up and looked at Illumi. "Illumi, enough." Then he looked at Killua and ordered him in a gentle voice, "You can go now, Killua." _

_Killua glared at Illumi for the last time before getting himself out of the room. Silva's face hardened, then he looked at Illumi with serious eyes and said, "Keep an eye on him." _

_"What about me?" Milluki cried with excitement. "What can I do to him?" His eyes glowed with pleasure._

_Silva closed his eyes in annoyance, then sat he leaned back at his couch. "Whatever you like." _

_And as soon as he was out, he ran as fast as he could to get out of the house. Being with himself away from everyone was what he wanted. _

* * *

The next morning, I was startled awake by the sound of my ringtone blaring in my eardrums. It had been ringing for at least three hours, but I never really bothered to pull myself out of my sleep, out of the cosy blanket, just to answer the phone. However, the ringing had started to get positively troublesome, so I sneaked my hand beneath my pillow, searching for the phone.

_It's gotta be here somewhere!_ I checked again.

With a groan, I dragged myself from the warm sheets and shuffled to the kitchen, not bothering to make the bed. I told myself I'd do it later, knowing that it was never going to happen. It's a morning ritual with me actually.

For some odd reason, I found my phone in the kitchen, just when it stopped its constant buzzing. I lazily looked at the screen. _17 missed calls. 10 messages._ I subconsciously checked the name of this very pertinacious caller and found myself muffling a smile. Of course it was him. And just when I was about to write something, I got a text from him.

_Answer the damn phone. Are you okay?_

I texted him back:_ Just woke up. Thanks for that._

Marcus quickly replied,_ Do you have any idea how worried I was? God, you're so emotionless._

Oh, damn. Last night, I told him that I would drop by his place, but due to what happened in the streets, I completely forgot telling him that I eventually decided to get back to my house. He must have been flipping out.

I tried to smooth out the situation by texting, _Not emotionless. I just have a bit of an allergy to feelings._ I smirked to myself when I imagined his face right now.

He texted back, _Haha, funny. _He sent another text almost immediately. _You know, that was not funny at all! _I tried to press 'reply' but I got another one: _I'm really pissed at you right now! You are really irresponsible! _And then a last one, which made me laugh. _What's the statute on the number of texts you can send in a row before you become a stalker?_

I wrote back,_ You__ haven't passed it. Yet._

My phone buzzed but before I could answer it, it buzzed again and again. I received six texts in a row, each with one word:

_Are_

_you_

_sure?_

_How_

_about_

_now?_

I rolled my eyes and texted, _Fine, you got your revenge by annoying me. What now?_

A few minutes later, I got one more message from him: _Absolutely nothing. I was just worried. _Then one more. _Last one, I promise, but why are you not at work? Today's your first day right?_

_Shoot! _I threw my phone and rushed towards the bedroom, grabbed my bag full of bathroom necessities and started to get ready. I was so late. I was so late on my first day of work, and that would _not_ be appreciated, especially by my new boss. He had arranged a meeting for us today at nine a.m. and I knew that if I didn't get there on time, he might probably not let me in. It's true that I only met him once, but I could easily tell that he was quite a sophisticated human being. So in conclusion, I was not going to leave the best impression.

Ten minutes later, I stormed out of the bathroom, got my boots on, and in a flash, was out of house.

I ran.

I ran.

I ran.

I ran as fast as I could towards the auction building, hoping that time would magically stop just to let me get there on time. _I really am living in my small little world._ I tried my best not to run into the people in the streets, but it wasn't a simple mission. I could barely see because of the rain, and the fog just made the running much more interesting.

_Woef!_ I arrived in five minutes, shrugging off the feeling of smug that came along with that realization. I steadied myself on my feet, smoothed my hair and walked inside the building, heading towards the meeting room, following the instructions my boss had given me in the last phone call.

I thought I had lost my way, but then I felt the impact of the overwhelming auras, and I knew I was getting close.

The room I found myself in was like nothing I had imagined. Bright, massive and quite fancy, matching the similar themes of design and aesthetic I had seen only in castles. I scanned it wryly, walking in slow, tentative steps on the fuzzy carpet, looking for the meeting room, but I could spot more than six doors, so I stood still for a moment.

With a pout, I continued to look around me. And it was just when I realized I wasn't alone in the room. A boy leaned his back limply on the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, eager for a glimpse of his face. He was wearing a flannel-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his head facing the direction of one of the huge doors, seemingly waiting for it to open. I hadn't seen his face yet, and I somehow let my brain ignore how familiar his white hair looked to me, but instead, got myself closer to him.

Asking someone would be better than nothing, and I simply couldn't just stand there like a helpless fool.

"Excuse me," I began. "Do you know if—" He whirled his head to look at me, and I finally caught a glimpse of his face, catching sight of the wide, emerald eyes I'd seen just last night. "_You_?" I said, not entirely pleased with this realization. "Why are you here?"

"I'm visiting―"

"No, I mean―" I switched my voice to a dramatically whining tone while pretending to speak to God, "Why, _WHY_ is he here?"

Killua blinked before he smiled slyly. "Wow, I didn't know I had such a strong effect on you… Um, what was your name again? I'm pretty sure it was something that rhymes with 'rookie.' Muki? Puki? Or was it a Suki?"

I rolled my eyes. "_Yuki_." I crossed my arms over my chest. "What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" he retorted, looking just as surprised as I was.

"I asked you first," I said, and I knew my tone was less than friendly.

He let out a sigh. "Visiting a friend," the boy — _Killua_ — replied. "Now tell me."

"A friend?" I frowned. "I didn't know people make visits in this place."

"They don't," he told me. "Just me." He unfolded his arms to shove his hands in his pockets. "Now are you going to tell me or not?"

I checked my phone for the time. "Tell you what?"

"What you're doing here."

"Uh…yeah," I said, sounding like my IQ was dropping every second. "I work here," I answered distractingly, dialing a number. "Hold on." I held the phone to my ear and walked a few steps away from Killua.

The person on the other line picked up. "Yuki?"

"Senritsu! Thank god!" I said in relief. "I'm lost! Which door holds the meeting?"

I could feel Senritsu smiling warmly at my exaggerated freaking out. "It's the third door to the left. We're waiting for you, Yuki."

"Thanks!" I hung up.

"So…" I rapidly turned my head around to see Killua standing right in front of me. Big, green eyes with specks of blue at the irises staring down at me. "You're Kurapika's new girl," he said with a smirk.

I couldn't help quirking an eyebrow at that. "I wouldn't say _his_ new girl, but yeah, I'm _the_ new girl." I placed my phone back in my pocket. "Are you friends with him?" I asked.

He nodded, staring at me thoughtfully. "Yeah, anyway…" he said, the smirk was back on his face. "Tell me, how was your way back home last night?"

"Safe," I replied carefully, trying to comprehend the reason behind that strange look on his face.

"I hope you didn't have to use that weird weapon of yours," he teased.

_Hah. So this was what he wanted.  
_

"No, I didn't," I answered with a smile. "I also didn't ran into another jerk who only cared about showing off."

He returned the smile, but only with a genuine one. "Whatever. That jerk saved your life."

"Tch," I said, rolling my eyes. "I gotta go now. Can I ignore you some other time?"

He leaned against the wall, smirking again. "I'll be here."

* * *

The meeting went well. I was not scolded by Kurapika for being late, but I had to bear the stabbing-in-the-back-like glares from some of my fellows, because apparently, they had to wait for me to start the meeting, and hell they just couldn't deal with the fact that they had lost fifteen minutes waiting for a girl like me.

Kurapika divided the tasks, repeating to us constantly that our main job here was protecting the 'boss.' He asked three guys to be in charged for this mission, repeatedly emphasizing the importance of escorting the boss to wherever she decided to go. No matter where and when. Those guys didn't like that, but they couldn't really protest, though I could tell their eyes were obviously saying, _Can we have a life apart from that job?_

Apparently not.

I was thankful my job didn't require leaving the building to escort some whiny brat, unless it was a specific request from Kurapika or Nostrad-san. I only needed to remain here, to protect the guests _and_ the treasures.

"I guess this is it," Kurapika said. "Any questions?"

A man in a weird costume slightly raised his hand. Kurapika nodded for him to speak.

"I was wondering if you're going to hire the Zaoldyecks this time," the man said.

_Pft. Stupid question._

Why would they do that?

"Yes, actually," Kurapika answered. "Nostrad-san made sure to contact them and ask them to be here only if it's urgent. This should come to you as no surprise that Nostrad-san is ready to do anything to make sure the auction goes on the way _he_ wants, without any interruptions on any level. If you know what I mean."

I tensed up.

"_What?_" I snapped.

"What is the matter, Yuki?" Kurapika asked, his voice still normal.

"What do you mean, '_what is the matter_'?" I spat, unable to control my rage. "Did you forget that five years ago, the Zaoldyecks were responsible for killing the Ten Godfathers? Did it _ever_ cross your mind before you considered hiring them?"

"I believe I already clarified that I was_ not_ the one who hired them. Nostrad-san did. Besides, that was only a rumor. And until now, no one really knows who killed the Ten Godfathers."

"Fine! Forget about this!" I shot back. "Do you _think_ the Zaoldyecks care if everyone in the auction is safe and having a blast? Of course not! I'm telling you, this is not going to be good! We _cannot_ put our lives in the hands of those people! If anything, Nostrad is being quite reckless about his daughter's life as if he—"

Kurapika punched the desk across from him, causing a dent on it. I had just denied the 'san' while speaking about my boss' boss' father. Nice.

"I'm sure this is not the way you should be speaking to me, Yuki," Kurapika said, his voice suddenly losing its calm.

"Because you're not making any sense!" I replied defensively.

"You and I are not in a place to interfere with what Nostrad-san believes is the best for his daughter. There's nothing you can do about it. Nostrad-san's orders shouldn't be questioned. Are we clear, Yuki?"

I held back a frustrated growl. "This is not fair," I muttered.

Kurapika closed his eyes and sighed, relaxing his fist. "I'm going to ask you to leave the room." He looked at me. "Now, please."

I stalled for a moment, my eyes darted between Kurapika and Senritsu, whose face carried a bit of sadness. When the stony stares I was getting from around the room became unbearable, I decided to leave.

I stepped outside the room and quietly closed the door behind me.

_Well, that sucks._

I rubbed my temples, trying to shut down the annoying wheezing in my head.

Few moments later, I felt someone's shadow over my head, staring down at me, and then Killua's voice casually asked, "Something wrong?"


	4. Blurred Memory

**I do not own Hunter X Hunter.**

* * *

_**4. Blurred Memory  
**_

_"Wow. uncle. We need some serious grocery shopping!" Yuki said as she took out a carton of apple juice and pushed the refrigerator door shut with her body. She leaned against it feeling numb. "I'm going to write a very long list for you." She grabbed an empty glass from the cabinet and opened the carton she was holding. As she began to pour, her uncle was watching her with worried eyes, holding on to his silence._

_She returned the carton to its place and started drinking the icy juice. "Yuki," her uncle called her. His voice was strain and faint which made Yuki feel a little suspicious. Her uncle was never serious unless something bad was happening. "Can you please sit? There's something I need to tell you." The last sentence made the thirteen-year-old girl's heart pound furiously in her chest. She sensed that he wanted to ask her gently to live with her grandmother. In other words, she knew he wanted to kick her out._

_That ached her heart painfully. It was one of her happiest moments when she was told that she was going to live with her favorite uncle. She always knew there was magic in this man. Unlike any other member of her family, Gary was wonderfully special. He has never caused her any sorrow, and he was always there when she needed him. She considered him as a friend more than an uncle. Knowing that he wanted to give up on her was hard._

_She sat beside him at the white couch quietly. He didn't say anything either, he was just frowning and staring at the ground. She knew it was hard for him, so she figured she could make this less awkward._

_"Look, uncle." She was playing nervously with her nails, trying to sound stable. "I'm sorry if I was a trouble for you. My aunt couldn't stand living with me and I don't blame you at all. I know there was something wrong with the way I relate to people around me. I'm trying to fix this problem. I-I promise." She looked at him with the corner of her eye to examine his reaction only to find him in a completely confused state._

_He slowly managed to smile a bit. "Don't worry. I will never kick you out." His words were like a heaven in her hurricane. She smiled and calmed down. "But there was something else I wanted to talk to you about." His painful tone was back._

_"I'm listening."_

_"It's about your parents and Sam," he finally said._

_The mention of them made her heart skip a beat. "I'm listening," she repeated._

_"You need to know the truth, Yuki. I think you have the right to understand what happened exactly."_

_"Uncle, you're freaking me out. What it is?" she sincerely told him._

_Gary shook his head and got up to gaze out of the window in the living room. Looking out, Gary frowned at the afternoon sky, which was unusually gray and bland, filled with wispy, dark clouds. A very dreary day in York Chin, or maybe that was how he was feeling inside. Dreary._

_Watching her uncle's brows turned down in anger, Yuki waited patiently for his answer. Waiting was never one of her specialty, but it was obvious that this was a sensitive subject to Gary, too. She didn't want to push him into talking, but her face was showing true concern and a bit of fear._

_"Your parents' job wasn't exactly… the best. They were working against the mafia," Gary said, now facing his niece. "And that was the reason they faced a lot of problems in their last three years."_

_"How could a real estate agent and an English teacher be so dangerous to the mafia?" Yuki said in a hushed voice._

_Gary took a deep breath, organizing his thoughts. "They were spies. Great ones, actually. The company where they used to work was kind of secretive, rebellious and it buried a hatred towards the government which was a reason why a lot of people wanted to vanish everyone who worked there, including your parents. They hired someone to do this, or I'm not sure if it was one person or more, but the point is, your parents were murdered because of that."_

_Yuki realized she hadn't blinked for the past minute; she was stunned by the amount of information she had just heard. She was trying so hard to put everything together. In the past, when she asked anyone how her parents had died, they always found a way to skip the answer and avoid telling her the truth. She had never imagined that the truth could be so harsh. "They were murdered," she murmured to herself, trying to make sure she heard him right. She wanted to convince herself that it was just a bad dream._

_Gary nodded, cursing himself for telling her. He moved to sit beside her again. "I didn't want to tell you, but you have the right to know. I'm sorry." He touched her shaking hand gently, hoping that it would calm her down._

_Yuki's head was spinning and nothing in the room was staying still. All of her strength had completed faded, leaving her limbs heavy and unresponsive._

_"What about Sam? Why was he killed?" Yuki asked, and her voice cracked at the last word._

_Gary looked like he was expecting such a question. After all, Sam was not only Yuki's big brother, but also the closest person to her heart. She always said that he was her favorite person on the planet._

_"I don't know, but I'm sure that he had nothing to do with your parents' job," Gary replied._

_Yuki felt like blood was trickling down the sides of her face. She was unable to think straight. "Do you know who killed them?" she asked in weak voice._

_"Your parents had a lot of enemies, but the main suspect was a family of assassins named The Zaoldyecks. The police couldn't find any evidence at all, and that led them to the conclusion that the crime had the essence of a Zaoldyeck style. Perfect. Everything was planned professionally, even you who were in the house couldn't hear or see anything." __Gary scoffed.__ "They are like ghosts."  
_

_"Are? They've never been caught yet?" Yuki's question was sudden. She sounded more curious and serious._

_"They can't be caught alive. That's impossible." Gary drew a bitter smile on his face._

_Yuki looked at him with a shocked expression on her face. Her dark blue eyes were uneasy—disbelieving. "That's not fair! None of this is fair!" She clutched at her head helplessly, which felt as if she was still spinning.  
_

_Gary sighed deeply. Seeing her in that condition was breaking his heart, and he knew there's was nothing he could say to comfort her. "I'm sorry." It was all he managed to come up with.  
_

* * *

"_No_," I replied quickly as I walked in a rushed pace past Killua who whirled at my direction to look at me, not buying my response. How could he? I was not being convincing. There was obviously something wrong with the way I was acting. I could hear my heartbeats racing the interstate, my thoughts inside my head were out of control getting me the inexplicable urge to cry and scream.

"You're fired, huh?" He headed towards me, asking me so casually as if it was something pointless. "Sucks to be you, Suki."

I glared at him.

"I'm not fired. And my name is _Yuki_," I said between gritted teeth. Killua smiled at my loud reaction, seemingly enjoying himself very much. Good grief, why in the world was I so unfortunate those two days? First of all, I might get fired from the job that I have been working so hard to get. Then I had to be stuck with this super annoying boy whom I couldn't seem to get rid of any time soon. Those coincidences that brought us together at the same place were causing me to feel like I was in some kind of lame TV. show. I don't understand—did I have a sign on my forehead that said 'Jerks, come talk to me'?

"Leave me alone." I moved to sit at the same chair he was sitting at before. I found that I was desperately getting myself in a mood to fight with him, but I tried to control this desire by taking a long breath.

"You really shouldn't be talking this way to your life savior," he said as he stood arms-crossed in front of me, smirking.

"You are _not_ my damn savior! You are _not_ my friend! You are _nothing_! LEAVE ME ALONE NOW!" The words were getting unconsciously out of my mouth.

Killua's expression changed quickly at my outburst. "Whoa. You're really in a bad mood."

"Nahh," I waved my arm dismissively with a fake smile. "My boss just yelled at me in front of everybody and kicked me out of that room. I feel freakin' peachy."

I massaged my forehead and around the eyes to get a little bit of relief. Killua stopped talking for few minutes, and I could hardly hear his breaths. I glanced again to look at him only to find him staring out in the space. There was an awkward silence, and I was not willing to break it.

I had no idea what was I doing sitting here, but I couldn't bring myself to leave without at least apologizing to Kurapika for my misbehavior back then.

"Hey, Suki."

"_Yuki_," I corrected irritably.

"Whatever. You and I. We're not going to be friends."

I blinked a few times then laughed. "Uhh, okay?"

What did he expect me to say to that?

He looked at me expectantly. "That's it? 'Okay'?" He looked disappointed and I didn't know why.

"Well, I've never really had the you-and-I-aren't-going-to-be-friends talk before. I'm not sure of the protocol. Maybe 'Thanks for the chat?'"

Killua blinked back at me.

"What?" I asked. He was either trying to distract me or annoy me, and both of them were working. "I don't know what you expect me to say. It's completely bizarre and random for you to say that to me! It's not like _I_ want to be your friend!"

"Good," he said coolly.

I inhaled and exhaled quickly, trying to not completely lose my temper. "What are you trying to prove right now? I don't understand you at all."

"I'm easy to figure out," Killua said drily. He looked me straight in the eye and said, "I'm an asshole."

_Did he honestly think this was new information?_

"I know that."

"You don't."

"Umm, yeah, I do. I get attacked, you help me out, glare at me, and then treat me like you think I'm going to infect you with leprosy, and then proceed to start confusing conversations with me. So yeah, I know what you are."

"An asshole."

"Yes."

"Say it."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

Killua smirked. "Oh, come on, you know you want to call me names. Let me have it."

"No."

He looked at me sadly. "Oh, that's right. You don't use that word. Tch, I should have known. Small-town girl attitude. Innocent and naïve."

"Shut up! God, you're such an—"

"Asshole?"

I grunted in irritation. He really was the most aggravating person I'd ever met.

I glared at him and he continued to smirk down at me.

"You really enjoy annoying me don't you?"

"Everyone's gotta have a hobby, Suki."

"_Yuki_!" I shouted then huffed. "And what did you do for fun before I came along?"

He chuckled derisively. "Nothing."

"Wow. Your friends must love you."

Killua froze briefly before arching an eyebrow at me and answering, "Yeah. They all think I'm awesome."

"So humble," I said grumpily.

"And good-looking. It must really suck for you not to be me."

"I was just thinking that. Although it must get totally tiresome carrying around that terribly huge ego all the time."

"Not as much as you'd think. I'm also extremely strong."

I narrowed my eyes at him in disbelief. "You're such an ass."

"Hole. It's one word. Say it fast. Like sneezing."

"I'm not going to say it. Stop trying to make me."

He looked at me innocently. "Say what?"

"You know what."

"No, I forgot. Remind me."

"Stop it."

"I will if you say it."

"Why is this important to you?"

"Because hearing you swear is freaking funny."

"To you."

"Yes. So say it."

"Shut up."

"Say it, say it, say it, say it, say it, say it, say it, say it—"

"OH GOOD GOD, YOU ARE THE SINGLE _MOST_ _ANNOYING_ _ASSHOLE_ I'VE EVER MET!"

Killua smiled widely and clapped.

I sighed in exasperation and muttered under my breath, "Damn it."

He chuckled and his eyes were bright and happy. Part of me didn't care that he was laughing at me because I somehow got a feeling that he didn't laugh much, and he should.

"That was great. I knew I could get you to swear."

"Wow. How awesome," I said sarcastically. "You're such a high achiever."

Still smiling, he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. I'll have you using bigger words in casual conversation in no time."

"I doubt that."

"Give me time."

"I thought you didn't want us to be friends," I challenged.

Killua's smile faded as he looked away, his eyes moving inside his pockets as if he was picking at his fingernails.

"I can make you swear without being your friend."

"Oh my god, I'm the luckiest girl in the world!" I groaned and he smiled. His eyes burnt into mine, and I felt a strange tingling in the pit of my stomach. He had a very overwhelming, annoying intensity in his eyes.

"Yuki! There you are!" Senritsu snapped as she came through the door and spotted me. "I'm glad you're still here. You can go home now. We have another meeting tomorrow's afternoon. Please don't be late."

I stood up swiftly. "You mean I'm not fired—yet?"

Senritsu's big sleepy eyes widened in confusion. "No, why would you even think that?"

"I don't know. He looked like he wanted to have my head back there."

Senritsu smiled uneasily. "No, but he just wants everything to be perfect. I should go back now." She glanced briefly at Killua. "Ten minutes and he'll be waiting for you."

Killua nodded and turned to me. "Where do you live?"

I picked up my bag and frowned at him. "Why do _you_ care?"

"I don't care. Let me walk you to your house this time," he said as he followed after me. I looked at him with the corner of my eye. "Oh, gimme a chance. I can surprise you."

"Whatever. You're just bored and don't want to wait ten minutes."

Killua smiled mysteriously. "Maybe."

I walked my way out of the building. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means humor me. We're already walking."

I thought there was no reason for me to refuse. "Okay, whatever."

The walk to my house was short, considering that my house was only few streets away. It was a silent walk; none of us was saying anything. My mood was getting better and I began to loosen up a bit.

We made it finally to my building. "This is it. Happy? You can go now," I said icily. Killua wasn't really listening—he was staring strangely at the building. "What?"

He narrowed his eyes. "I feel like I saw this building before," he answered. "Like I've been here before."

"Oh, that happens to me a lot. It's really annoying and not awesome. But you know what's awesome?" I grabbed Killua's shoulders and turned him around. "If you leave. Byebye!"

"W-why?" he stuttered as I pushed him forward. "The least you can do is invite me to a cup of coffee."

I let go of him and scowled. "_You_ drink coffee?"

"Coffee, tea—whatever."

"No. I don't have coffee, or tea, or food for that matter. You'll hate my house. You'll hate this building. I hate this building. There's nothing I like about this building except—" I winced at the thought.

"Except what?"

I suddenly remembered something I thought was buried along with all of the rest of my childhood memories. "C'mon," I called as I grabbed Killua's hand and pushed the door of the building open. I ignored his protests and ran the stairs, dragging him along with me. I had no idea why was I behaving this way, but my over-excitement to reach my destination was beyond all description.

"You know we can use the elevator, right?" Killua asked.

"Uhh, elevators and I don't get along. I think you're going to use your feet now." My voice was high-pitched.

I was absolutely sure that the door of the roof was not locked up. Killua didn't ask me again what was I doing, he just followed me without saying or doing anything. When I saw the familiar dusty gray door, I wasn't surprised that it easily opened. That was when we were on the roof of the tall building. I was eying it, checking if there was anything different from the last time I came to this place, but I wasn't surprised to see everything the way it was. It looked like no one came here for years, I wondered why. The place was so nice to me.

I found myself walking towards the spot where me and him used to sit. He used to yell the hell out of me when he found out that I followed him. Continuously asking me to go home, and when I refused to do so, he used to sigh and help me to sit next to him. I used to love being with him in this place, listening to him talking about stuff I could hardly understand, because I was so young. Everything he used to say was so mysterious and somehow, very interesting to me at that time.

"What is this place?" Killua's voice snapped me out of my train of thoughts.

"I used to come here with my brother when I was a kid," I told him as I climbed the edge of the building and sat there. I lifted my face to the sky, the arch of it looked very high and crystal blue. The wind swept in soft big breaths down from the bottom. It was bizarre with a wild clear scented sweetness. "We used to sit here for hours. He used to say, 'I come here to listen. The river, the traffic, the birds, it makes me feel like I'm a part of something bigger.' I couldn't understand what he was trying to tell me that time, but now I think I do." My eyes gentled as I remembered those days. Somehow it seemed like they were so far away.

Killua's face didn't change and he looked like he was thinking about something. "You think that's crazy, right?"

He rolled his eyes to look at me, a slow smile spread over his face. It made me think how much nicer he looked when he smiled. "Not really," he said, "I used to climb a tree that was near my house. It used to calm me down."

The breeze that was passing by was slightly chillier up in the high elevations than down in the city below, and nearby, the soft humming of the river gave a peaceful lullaby for sleep. A flock of birds was flying directly overhead, just waiting to drop into the cattails, where they would spend the night. They looked inseparable like they could not survive without being all together.

"Do you have any brothers?" I found myself asking him.

Killua looked surprised, but replied anyway. "Four. I have four brothers."

"Eh, you're lucky." I lifted my head to look at the sky again.

Killua barked out a flat laugh. "Well, I'm not so sure about that."

"Why not?" I asked, curious now.

"My brothers are—" he paused to search for the right word "—insane."

I chuckled at the answer. "Yeah siblings can be a pain. But they must good after all, right?" I asked rhetorically as if this was a simple fact.

"Nop," Killua quickly replied, not meeting my eyes. I figured that it was a sensitive subject to him and the best thing that I could do was to talk about something else to cool off the growing tension. Preferably quickly.

"It's weird. It's sunny and warm today," I said as I took a deep breath, letting the fresh smell permeate my lungs.

To my surprise, Killua grinned. I looked at him with a questioning look in my eyes. "It's really weird how people always talk about the weather when there's nothing to say," he explained.

I grinned back as I realized it was so true. I looked down to see hundreds of cars that looked like small little ants moving fastly in the big wide streets, everything looked very small and tiny. I understood why my brother used to like this place.

"I missed my brother," I admitted. It was the first time I revealed something that was going inside of my mind that freely. I found myself saying it out loud and it wasn't a habit of mine to say such a thing to someone I only knew for few hours, but it was comforting. "He was a good guy."

Killua climbed to sit beside me. "Was?"

"He died at a young age few years ago. He was only nineteen."

I didn't feel like saying more than this. The more I talked about him, the more it would be hard for me to stop thinking about him. I quietly sat in my place watching my legs as they moved naturally on their own.

"I thought it was going to rain today, but apparently it didn't," Killua said, breaking the ice.

It took me a while to fully grasp what he meant and let out a laugh. "Nice one," I told him. Big surprise, he could be nice sometimes.

His phone buzzed. Killua checked the message he got before stepping back on the roof. "I should go."

"Will I see you again?" I blurted out subconsciously. I was looking forward to it, and dreading it at the same time.

Killua blinked and his eyes dropped from mine, and the intensity immediately dimmed.

"Yeah. Sure. Later, Suki."

"_YUKI!_"

He smirked and nodded. "Yuki."

Suddenly I wanted to tell him to go back to calling me Suki. The way he said my name was also intense.

He walked to the door and waved a goodbye.

I waved back slowly, realizing he was already gone. Something strange hit me. This moment brought a mixture of feelings that I had never experienced before in my life, but at same time, I had. I knew it was something more than just a daily _Déjà vu_ this time. Something alarming and unsettling, but too blurry for me to grasp it.


	5. Sweet Vengeance

**Edited - August 28th 2012  
**

**I do not own Hunter X Hunter.**

* * *

_**5. Sweet Vengeance  
**_

_The sunset was setting beautifully as viewed from the window of his room. It was the perfect end to the imperfect day. Letting the waterworks flowing down his pale face, he slammed the door of his room shut behind him. He felt his blood pressure rise, every vein in his body illuminate, tracing every capillary, every inch of his body, bright red, and rich with life._

_Yuki…._

_The memories of this name were flashing through his head, lightning speed. He didn't know how or what he felt the minute he heard her telling him her name, and to gauge how stirring these four letters were to him was indescribable. They brought a range of emotions, from deep sadness to worry and happiness. It shocked him that she still had that effect on him._

_Could she be her? What are the chances? He was living in a shelter of denial. His mind was strongly denying the idea though all the evidences were there, screaming at him with the truth. The black silky hair, the shimmering blue eyes, the feelings he had when he saw the detestable building, the dead young brother, and the name. Coincidences? Hardly._

_A tiny part in him wanted that girl to be the little Yuki, the girl he met eight years ago in the wrong state of affairs, but the dominant part was not accepting her to be that Yuki. Through all his life, he tried to forget about the existence of her, refused to live with the fact that she was still present in this world. And with that, he was able to burn her away with all his previous life which he did not have the intentions of going back to again._

_However, he found himself restoring her memory while analyzing the situation from a rational standpoint. What if she was that Yuki? What if he had the chance to apologize to her? Now that was ridiculous, the apologizing stuff. It was a good thing that she couldn't remember him. How could she? She was six when they met. Even he, the former assassin, couldn't remember the number of men who collapsed dead at his feet when he was six years old. Perhaps all what Yuki wanted in her life was to kill him brutally, like how he did to her parents. He felt his blood boil further, and he couldn't seem to get his breathing under control._

_He pounded his fist at the wall which was the closest thing to a target. Why was she back in his life? He thought to himself._

_"Killua, are you okay?" He turned his face to see his black-haired friend standing at the door, true concern in his chocolate brown eyes._

_Killua coughed in a desperate attempt to ease his breathing. "Yes," he replied in a husky voice. Maybe he was over thinking it. Of course he was. He remembered his brother's words, 'You should stop worrying about the most ridiculous things.' He figured it wouldn't make any difference if she was Yuki or not, but he should make sure in order to dispel all his doubts._

_"Gon, how do you feel about working with Kurapika this month?"_

_Gon furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "But, Ging…."_

_Right. Thanks to Yuki, Killua almost forgot about his friend's desire to find his father. "We've been searching for him for five years now. Taking a break for a month won't be a disaster."_

_Gon smiled in agreement. "Okay."_

_He didn't understand why was he exactly doing this. To Killua, it was not an issue about love or hate, because his life he never revolved around those two sides of the same coin, but it was about something more which he couldn't exactly define. Empathy? Guilt? Curiosity? Or some combination of the three? He had no idea. But feelings are not supposed to be logical. Despite the fact that he was a strong person, he was a human being whose emotions shouldn't be rationalized. The only thing he could do at the moment was getting to know that girl. The girl who kept on coming from nowhere. She was able to change something in him years ago, and he wondered if she was able to do that again. He always believed there was something strange about that girl._

_Yuki…._

___Or maybe he could just call her Karma._  


* * *

"Leave us alone!"

The persistent screams of truly irrational familiar voices were terrifying. The shuddering wails of remorse were ringing in my ears giving me the chills. Watching with terror the tragic sequence of events that were happening before my eyes, I couldn't bring myself to react with anything more than a shrug of the shoulders. Eventually, the screams became surreal whispers as their bodies fell dramatically on the floor which was spinning beneath me. Slowly, their blood was spilling out of them like a fountain, turning the floor crimson as their corpses stayed still forever. I clasped my hand to my mouth and nose, both trying to hold back vomit and to drive the smell of decay and rotting flesh from my nose.

I was dreaming though the dream looked very vivid, like it was reality. All my life, there was a thin line between my dreams and my reality. Although very life-like I could tell that the dream was fake. I remained asleep, however.

I looked up to see the anonymous murderer of my beloved family, standing proudly without any signs of disturbance, staring at me darkly with a smirk on his face which was unrecognizable, blurry, but his eyes were visible enough to frighten me. He heavily moved his hand towards me as if he wanted to touch my cheeks. His wolf-like claws were dripping with blood.

My mind went blank.

I just stood in my motionless body, not thinking about anything else but the fact that I wanted to know who this person was that my subconscious mind knew but my conscious mind did not. I was not even capable of escaping my weakness to use my words. Blindly, I reached my hand to touch his.

I was wrenched awake by the sound of my alarm clock. My pulse thudded loudly in my ears as the smell of freshness that has been burned into my soul, like a sour-sweet perfume slapping me across the face. I lay shivering and gasping in my warm bed for several minutes, trying to break free of the ominous nightmare. I waited for my heart to slow.

It was tomorrow. The light was piercing through my window, making the room echo back a dark blue, concrete ricocheting the angry bees from my bright, annoying little alarm. _8:30!_ The bees were swarming to every open space. _8:30! How are you still asleep?_ I used all the rest of my remaining energy to shut off the buzzing, and then I let my body relax one more time at the warm bed. Staring at the peaked ceiling, a memory washed over me as I struggled to explain the weird dream. Why was I dreaming of my family's murderer? And most importantly, why was I trying to reach for his hand? I was forcing my eyelids to stay open.

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

Another annoying beeping of the alarm echoed through the room. I got up to took the alarm from under my bed and shut it off. I intended to put the extra alarm under the bed in order to make sure that I was wide awake.

Eager to shake off the nightmare, I found myself rushing everything. It took me only twenty minutes to tide my own bed, take a shower, have a quick breakfast, and get out of the house. I was surprisingly proud of myself. For some reason, I wanted to prove my presence in the auction building three hours before the definite meeting, because, well, I wanted to have a private talk with Kurapika about yesterday, and I figured that my chance would arise if I arrived early before anyone else.

After thinking about it from all sides for a full day and weighing my options, I realized it wouldn't make any harm if I made some concessions to keep my job. Despite of my vicious hate towards the Zaoldyecks which was growing significantly in every single day of my life, I decided to team up with them during the auction period as long as the idea of being with them at the same place was off the table. I was willing to inform Kurapika of my decision only to let him know how assiduous I was to stay in this job, and that I was not going to be a trouble in the future.

Time passed quickly while I was analyzing the strategy of my plan on my way to the auction building which I found myself only few meters away from. I bit my lip worryingly when I saw few members of the press standing outside the building, there was a woman interviewing this man who I could tell from looking at him that he was one of the wealthy auction guests, and obviously he was a very important one. I approached from the crowd that gathered around the journalistic guys to find out what was going on, pushed the reporters away to get a close view, and got a few curses for doing so.

"Aizawa-san, can you tell us the reason why you wanted to participate in the annual auction this year?" asked the interviewer lady. The man named Aizawa smiled politely in return.

"To stay youthful," Aizawa answered in his slow, melodious tone of voice. His answer caught my attention and I listened carefully to the rest of it. "One of the treasures is a cup that's called The Antidote of Age. It is rumored that once you drink it, you remain young forever. Only one person in the history of mankind was able to get it, and he was a professional hunter."

_Um, seriously?_

The lady's jaw dropped slightly in surprise. "That's impressive, Aizawa-san." He gave her one of his small smiles, of the kind designed to tell the world that he was far above it. A muscled young man appeared from nowhere to acquaint Aizawa of the need to leave immediately. The cameras clicked as Aizawa nodded and waved a goodbye to the crowd.

_These guests are weird._

I held back a laugh and got inside.

It was an eerie quiet inside the building considering it was very early in the morning, but not too early for me to arrive before Senritsu. When I first cast my eyes on her, she was talking to the receptionist of the building about something I couldn't exactly hear. She saw me. "Yuki? What are you doing here?" Her big round eyes stared wide and timorously into mine.

"Um, I just want to talk to Kurapika. Is he around here somewhere?"

Her eyes smiled and she shook her head. "You can find him in the cafeteria. It's in the second floor."

I nodded a thank you to her before I went over the stairs.

Kurapika was one of the two guys who sat sitting calmly in the cafeteria. He was drinking his black coffee and reading a book quite peacefully. The bright morning light was seeping through the broad windows and randomly making his golden hair glint.

I pulled a chair out. "Mind if I sit?" I said as brightly as I could, trying my best to appear unfazed by his frustration with me.

Kurapika slowly narrowed his black eyes at me. He didn't have to say anything, he invoked fear deep within me with only a look. His gaze returned to his book. "No," he replied in a low, monotonous tone.

I sat nervously at the edge of the chair as I waited for the words to come out from my mouth. But Kurapika quickly decided, "You're working for Neon-san."

"What?" I shrieked. "No, no, no. I should not be the one working for Neon-san. No, no, please don't do that," I grumbled, suddenly out of control. "No, no. No. Girls hate me. I'm not a girl actually." Kurapika gave me a funny look. "Well, I_ am_ a girl. Definitely a girl. I mean I'm not_ like_ girls. I don't know how to be one. She's going to hate me. It's not what you want, right? Please don't do this."

Kurapika stared me in bewilderment for a few seconds before he closed his eyes irritably. "You're late, you're temperamental, and you're going to cause me troubles if you work here."

"No, I won't. I promise. I'm so sorry for yesterday. I was unforgivably rude," I admitted, and Kurapika remained quite, waiting for me to continue. "It's just…" I felt my face working, trying to find the expression that went with the regret and the grief inside. My eyes felt strange and dry; they blinked repeatedly against the uncomfortable feeling. "My family was killed by the Zaoldyecks. Eight years ago. My father, my mother and my big brother. It's why I lost control yesterday. But I won't anymore. Gimme one last chance."

Kurapika closed his eyes in frustrated distress. "I'm sorry," he murmured in an honest voice as if he could see far into my soul.

A jolt of relief shot through me, but had not lasted more than few seconds. When Kurapika's face turned hard again, I knew my reason was not good enough to support me. "You should not let your personal issues affect how you do your job. Never let your feelings carry you over, because that will lead you to the true path of failure." His response was slow, like I was a young child he was explaining a difficult concept to.

I froze. "Does this mean I can still work here?"

"Yes."

I smiled so much I got sore cheeks. "Oh my god, thank you! Would it be so inappropriate if I hug you right now?"

"_Yes_."

"Uhh, then what about a handshake?" I extended a hand and Kurapika accepted. I'm sure I was still smiling because he was looking at me like I was mental.

"Well, well, well, look who's here," a taunting, familiar voice said. I looked up to acknowledge the speaker who was currently standing beside my chair. I stomped my foot like a child under the table. _Of course it's him._

I stopped smiling immediately.

"Killua," Kurapika greeted.

"Kurapika," Killua replied, pulling out a chair. His lips curled into that same amused smile I saw when I entered Kurapika's office yesterday. I swallowed hard, wishing I had grabbed a drink of water before coming up here. I suddenly felt parched, my nerves getting the best of me.

Killua put his forearms over the table and leaned in with that horrible smirk of his. "How come I'm seeing you everywhere? Are you a stalker?"

I pursed my lips angrily. "No, but clearly _you_ are!" I spat, and Kurapika looked at me with judging eyes. I quickly realized that I shouldn't let him see me raising my voice at anyone, or else he'd throw everything I just said back at me. I cleared my throat and managed a calm tone as I said, "No, but you're the one coming here, Killua-san. To where _I_ work. So it makes _you_ the stalker." I smiled, feigning innocence. "Killua-san."

Killua's eyes went as big as the saucers before us. "K-Killua-san?" he repeated skeptically.

I maintained my creepy smile. "Yes." I got up. "Anyway, I'll be leaving now, Killua-san. Do you guys need something before I go?"

"No, that's it, Yuki. Thank you," Kurapika answered.

"I do, actually," Killua said. His face suddenly turned devilish, doing nothing good to my nervousness. "Would you get me a cup of tea, Yuki? This is a self-service place, and unfortunately, I can't get up because I have a very important issue to discuss with your boss right here. Don't worry, I'll tip you." He wiggled his eyebrows at me.

I gaped at him. I hadn't been so mad in a very long time. I was so mad I could kick a puppy. Part of me wanted to punch him. Part of me wanted to scream, _Get off your lazy ass and get your own cup of tea! _Part of me wanted to pick him up and throw him in the damn nearby garbage.

I did none. Instead, I smiled and said, "Sure." I looked at Kurapika. "Do you want something, too? I'll be _so_ glad to fetch it for you, too!"

"Just water. Thank you."

I went to the counter and ordered, never missing any chance to glare at Killua as Kurapika listened to what he was saying. I also caught him watching me more than once, his eyes following me around the room from his spot at the table. I tried not to let it rattle me, but I could feel my heart beating erratically whenever our eyes met. I was so, so mad.

* * *

The afternoon arrived quickly. I pressed the phone to my ear as I pushed some doors and walked inside the auction building. "So let me get this straight, you threw one thousand coins at him?" Marcus said. He was having a hard time believing my story.

"Yuki, Killua and Gon will be joining us today," Senritsu explained, causing my jaw to drop down through the floor and to the hot grounds of hell; my eyes shot from their sockets. "They offered to help us through this month. Isn't that great?"

"Nice to see you again!" Gon held my numb hand and shook it. "Killua has told me so much about you. Okay, not so much by normal standards, but he told me a little about you, which in Killua terms is a lot!" I saw Killua smile mischievously back at me from behind Gon's shoulder.

_Oh my god, I think I'm going to throw up._

All of a sudden, the building was filled with all sort of people from various backgrounds and business. Every man had at least one bodyguard with him at all times, no matter how much they protested. One of them headed towards the elevators, I quickly recognized his face, and my eyes narrowed.

"It's going to be fun working here with you!" Gon decided, still shaking my hand.

I grinned as widely as I could at him. "I'll be right back!"


	6. Acidic Boy

_**Updated - August 27th 2012**_

**I do not own Hunter X Hunter.**

* * *

_**6. ****Acidic Boy**  
_

"_Banned?_" the well-suited man yelled in my face, successfully making himself avowed for everyone in the reception room. "What do you mean '_banned'_?"

I held my ground as I stood right before his — _and_ his two horribly muscular guards' — black frame, blocking the distance between them and the elevator doors, quite successfully myself.

I mustered my best calm expression when I answered him.

"I mean under the formal system, you've been officially deprived of your formerly free right to see Nostrad-san and to personally associate with him. I'm sorry, but I can't let you go to Nostrad-san's floor. In fact—" I indicated with my thumb at the fingerprint detection system that operated the electronic locks on the elevator doors "—you can't go to his floor if I don't let you in. If the fingertip isn't of mine or my colleagues', then the elevator won't move anywhere."

I could've sworn I saw the short, thinning grey hair on top of his head (including his closely cropped beard) fly up like the fur on the back of a disturbed house cat.

"Who do you think you are?" he seethed. "Nobody talks to me like that. Nobody stands in my way. If I say I want to see Light Nostrad, then nobody _bans_ me from seeing Light Nostrad. Most people would immediately regret _banning_ someone like me."

"I'm sorry, sir, but those are not my orders," I said patiently, even though I was so nervous I could feel the sweat beads forming on my forehead. This was my first time handling an angry guest. Using my imposed polite tone didn't help, but Kurapika insisted that it sounded more formal and should be the tone I used with everyone wearing an expensive suit.

The scowling man turned to one of his bulky body guards. "I swear to god, if I had a fucking nickel for every time someone has told me they're sorry today, I'd have a lot of nickels, and I don't need any more fucking nickels," he ranted. _If _I_ had a nickel for every time these guests have talked about money, or anything related to money, in the past few hours, then I'd possibly be owning their shiny cars._

"Where's Nostrad's blond boy? _I_ have been here for five minutes, and no blond boy," he snipped. "I'm not going to stand here and argue with an employee. Go get me that blond boy," he commanded in his irritated tone. I tried not to frown in his frizzly face. This man treated everyone like they were his bitches.

"Sorry, sir, but Kurapika-san is out today. I can't—"

"See!" He pounded his fist on the wall next to my head, making one of the famous paintings vibrate. "What did I tell you? _Sorry_. It's all I've heard today!" he shouted.

I snuck a peek across the room at Gon and Killua, who were watching the heated exchange in silence. Gon's expression mirrored Senritsu's wary one, though with a hint of anger. They almost distracted me from seeing the rich man's large hand, that reached out to the fingerprint detection machine. I managed to quickly grasp it, effectively halting it to a stop before it could touch anything. I was glaring at him now.

"_Sir_," I said, still polite, but with a firm undertone. "The alarm will set off automatically if the system detects any foreign fingerprint, and then the security staff will come immediately—" _to kick your wealthy arrogant fat ass_ "—to get you out of the building. _For good_. You don't want that, do you, _sir_?" I admit the last word was a total mocking.

Panting, he snatched his hand back as his guards tensed behind him. He leaned down to bring his face closer to mine and narrowed his eyes in challenge. "Do you, Miss, happen to have _any_ fucking idea who _I_ am?"

I cleared my throat. "Miyahara Eiza, CEO of Miyahara Corporation. You're a software developer, created one the most popular software security programs in the world right now. You've made more than everyone in your family combined. You're worth close to twenty-six billion. You're fifty-four years old with fifty-four billion zennies," I said to the amazement of the three men before me. The big boss had a look of disbelief on his face. But just before he stopped blinking like a moron, I quickly added, "And you're _banned_ from going anywhere further from this place."

Face bright red, the man advanced on me, his fist aiming for my shirt collar. He gripped it tightly between his fingers, yanking me forward. "Do you think you're out-smarting me, Little Sunshine?" he hissed at me. "I can get you fired right now. In fact, a girl like you should be babysitting children, I'm surprised you're not doing that right now."

I smiled at him so simperingly bubblegum sweet. "Frankly, sir, I feel like I am."

Miyahara gasped. "You little bitch!"

His hand went for my face.

I ducked away, countering his two guards' moves as they went berserk, fists flying at a dizzying speed. I avoided the first one as I shoved him hard in the back, harder than I intended. Pleased, I watched him smash his head into the elevator doors, denting them badly, before falling to the floor in a heap as he struggled to stand. Meanwhile, the second one, spun around to face me only to have both his arms pulled behind him before being thrown to the ground. His face smacked the floor hard with a brutal _thump_. I looked up at Gon who was currently standing over him.

"It's not nice to hit a girl." Gon crouched down and pulled the man back by his shoulder. "I think your nose is broken. Better have someone look at that." He turned to the stunned Miyahara, and looked at the old man with cool, big eyes.

"Sir, I think you should all leave," Gon demanded very softly.

Frozen once again in shock, Miyahara sized Gon up and decided he wasn't going to be able to take him. He put up his hands apologetically and backed away, gathering his men up and blabbering angrily as he walked.

Gon walked to stand beside me as we watched them fading into the crowd.

I shoved Gon's shoulder with mine. "Thanks for that."

"No problem. Just didn't want to see their butts getting kicked," he answered with his playful grin, and I instantly matched it with a goofy one of my own. Soon enough, Killua and Senritsu approached us. I'm not sure I liked the unreadable look on Killua's face.

"You okay, Yuki?" Senritsu asked with great concern.

"Yup!"

"He seemed to be giving you a hard time."

"_Yeaaahh,_" I replied with a sigh and crossed my arms. "Bet he's going to give himself a heart attack this year. Presumably in two months."

"More like in two weeks," Gon corrected.

I smirked at him. "Wanna bet?"

"Deal," he agreed with a good-natured grin, and we shook on it. Killua smiled but continued to eye me warily.

* * *

Minutes later, as I moved to take the stairs, heading towards Kurapika's office to catch the meeting we were all late on, I caught Killua walking behind me, eyes on the stairs, hands in pockets. His demeanor was so casual and nonchalant it made me question if the previous few minutes had actually taken place.

Silently, he followed after me.

Frowning, I sped up my pace, and so did he, catching up with me.

After some serious pouting, I started jogging when we reached a hallway. Killua, with his eyes in the distance, wore a righteous smirk, and even though he was walking and I was jogging, he was suddenly right next to me. _Goddammit, how's he doing this? __Does he have_ some freakin' magic teleporting powers? I practically growled, and picked my jogging up to a run. I tried to surpass him as this little game turned into a neck-and-neck race in the building's hallways, but it was futile. Not even containing his delight in befuddling me, Killua sped up until _he_ surpassed me, while _still_ walking. I narrowed my eyes at him. _Is he teasing me?_

"Oh whatever," I whined with another big pout, slowing my pace down so I was back to walking.

Killua's eyes went wide, but he was still amused. The righteous smirk turned into a smug one. "Tch, you're a lame opponent." He noticed my slight panting. "I can piggy-back you if you want, you know."

I snapped out of my stupor and decided not to hold back any of my annoyance with his arrogance. "You don't have to. I'm quite capable of… piggy-backing my own self."

"I'm sure you are."

He laughed again like it was me who was actually humoring him. He wasn't really sour when he laughed. His smile lightened his whole face. I looked back out towards the carpeted floor, needing to look anywhere but at him and his new not-at-all-sour face. My heart was beating double time, which was just ridiculous. I kinda hated this guy.

Not looking at me anymore, he said, "I take it back—you're not lame at all. In fact, you're challenging and a possible pain in the neck. Like a little bomb, always fun when it explodes." He looked at me with the enthusiasm of a five year old. "Exactly my type," he finished and then stalked away. I ran after him, demanding an explanation before I eventually came to a stop at the sight of a familiar blond figure.

_Oh shit._

"You're late," Kurapika scolded sternly, cold eyes burning with disapproval. "Again."

He looked way taller than me. Like I was a bird and he was my own scarecrow.

At least he was a pretty scarecrow.

"Yuki," Kurapika called.

I took a deep breath and unloaded, "I couldn't be on time because Miyahara-san tried to bully me downstairs with his bodyguards, and he actually thought that I didn't want him to meet Nostrad-san, but I told him that those are Nostrad-san's orders, and then he asked to see the blond bo—I mean, _you_, so I told him that you were out, and I hope he doesn't come back because I may have gotten a little rude with him, but then Gon came to help me out and said you would understand what I did because I was just following the orders, and then some smirky jerk over-tripped me, so that part confused me a little but, but everything about that jerk confuses me, so it's not that surprising—"

"Yuki, take a breath," Kurapika ordered, staring at me like I had another head coming out of my neck. _God, word vomit much? _"We'll talk about this later. After the meeting."

"I'm sorry. The meeting, right," I mumbled. "Sorry." I screwed my eyes shut and bit my lip. "Crap, I said that already. Sorry—_dammit!_"

"_Yuki_."

I shook my head and tried to come off more confident. "Go ahead. I'll be right behind you."

"All right."

Behind Kurapika, I saw Killua miming an explosion with both hands, his breath whooshing out in a '_psshh_' sound as his grin widened.

_…!_

I freaking _hated_ that guy.

* * *

My intentions, of course, had been to stay alarmed and pay attention to what Kurapika and the others were saying during the meeting, but standing in a room with no chair in sight for four hours was hard. Really hard. Harder when you're bored. I believe that intentions create and manifest what we desire sometimes though not in the way we would like but in the way that needs to happen. Anyway, my intentions on being completely focused were worthless because Kurapika shot me few glares when he noticed that I was staring out the window, thinking that I wanted to just jump out. That was when I realized that my job was hideously boring. I crossed my arms and tried with difficulty to keep up.

Only one thing had kept me from the temptation to scream in pain and curl up into a blubbering little ball. It was Killua. Despite the anger that welled up inside me because of him, I caught myself plenty of times mentally watching him as he talked. The reason was not because of the stupid fascination that I felt for him, but because he was probably the only one who was providing Kurapika with the crafty ways to maintain the regulation in the auction building, and to protect everyone without having to worry about anything. And for the life of me, I wouldn't be able to come up with his mischievous ideas. I mean, it was like he slunk inside the criminals brain and found out exactly what were they thinking.

That was when he paid attention that I was looking at him. I quickly turned my gaze to the blond boss, pretending to be listening, trying to act normally without letting him know how embarrassed I was. He looked at me. He looked at me for a long time. Then he smiled his famous crooked smile and turned his gaze to Kurapika as well.

_What was that? Why did he smile like that?_

"Are we expecting any movements from the Spiders?" Gon asked. As most moons are known only through a few distant observations through probes or telescopes, most of my theories about the Spiders were slightly unrealistic. I always thought they were some kind of mythological creatures with the bodies of male lions and man-like facial features. Well, not exactly like that, but I did imagine them to be something non-human. Something about them was pure magic. They could turn York Chin upside down and lead it to its end in a blink of an eye.

It was not hard to notice the flinch in Kurapika's eyes; it showed that he was personally offended by the sudden question. He cleared his throat by coughing a little before he declared, "It's possible. No one can confirm or deny because none of us has knowledge of their latest actions, and that's why we should take the possible precautions suitable for everyone's safety." He paused for a moment to examine our reactions. I shrugged suspiciously at his answer. "Do you have any questions?" None of us felt like answering so we just remained silent. Kurapika nodded and said, "This is our last meeting. You all are aware of the fact that the auction starts in two days, and I think we are done with the preparations. If you have any inquiries, don't hesitate to contact me. I'll be in my office the whole time."

I picked up my bag from the floor ready to leave the place where time had stopped. I stepped outside the dark room to a bright, crowded one with hundreds of people chatting, moving around me. I cursed under my breath at the loud, click-clacking noise and made my way to the exit in a desperate attempt to get out of the whole building. I needed some fresh air.

I flinched when I felt someone touch my wrist, and turned around instantly. I was _a bit_ relieved when I realized it was Killua. He looked in a good mood, but I knew better than to bank on his mood being consistent for an entire hour.

"Why the rush? Another meeting you're looking forward to attend?" he asked, pronouncing the word 'meeting' in a funny way.

"Hell no," I answered rather quickly, as I walked my way towards the exist. "I definitely can't take another meeting right now, but only if I wanted to kill myself, that's when I'll actually consider the idea. Especially now that Kurapika hates me, well not really _hates_ me, but I'm definitely not his favorite person. Like he was forced to hire me or something. Well excuse me, but I had no idea there were rules about handling a wealthy person and allowing them to be so vicious with you. He really should stop making me feel extremely out of my league so Imma let him know that I'm determined to be a fast learner and I dot not like failing at anything—" I dared myself to look up at Killua's face. He was smiling, a devious glint in his eye this time. "I'm totally exploding again, aren't I?"

"Kinda."

I sighed unintentionally. "Sometimes I can start talking and say more than I should."

"I picked up on that," Killua replied and I laughed. "Why am I feeling like you're not enjoying this job?" he asked with a slight frown on his face.

"Exactly," I confirmed. "I'm not."

"Then why are you working here?"

"Um…actually my master wants me to work here for one year to prove to him that I'm capable of being a Blacklist Hunter. He believes I don't have the sufficient patience. So he challenged me to stay alive without messing up in order to pass his final exam," I replied slowly.

"Why did you want to become a hunter in the first place?"

I considered his question for a moment. "My master used to say that being a hunter helped find happiness and achieve some of his life goals," I answered, and Killua raised his eyebrows. "I know, he's a bit poetic. So…I'm interested in checking the validity of that."

Killua looked amazed for a moment. "Huh," he said. "You and him refer to happiness as if it's something material."

"Not exactly," I disagreed with a smile. "I once heard that happiness is a special powerful emotion that we can't control. It could also be for the actions you make in your life; whether it's saving a life or helping others to achieve _their_ goal. I think this sounds nice."

Killua did not look convinced.

The weather was dismal, gray, foggy, and very cold outside the building. I pulled the zipper of my jacket to my neck and rubbed my hands to warm them up.

"And what's _your_ definition of happiness?" Killua asked me.

"I am not sure I can tell you."

"Why not?"

I whirled my head slowly to look at him. How could I answer him without sounding too melodramatic? "Because I don't really know the meaning of it," I answered frankly. "I honestly never had the feeling of wanting to jump up and down for joy in my life."

Killua chuckled at that. "You know seeing someone jumping for joy is a rare sight nowadays," he replied in an obvious attempt to comfort me. It actually worked. I grinned at him. I'm sure my smile rivaled the Joker's grin. _Tone it down, that's creepy!_

"Anyway. There's a nice restaurant at the end of this street." He pointed a finger out at some building. "You haven't had your lunch yet, have you?"

"Uhh." I suddenly felt like I was standing in front of a blazing fireplace. His head was tilted slightly forward, and those green eyes were smoldering at me through his long lashes. That crooked smile was firmly in place. He was being awfully pleasant.

_Gah. I think I just forgot my name._

"Nop. Nop, I haven't." It was at that moment I realized I was starving. To prove my point, my stomach rumbled loudly. "Yeah, I should eat. But I'm buying." I was being stubborn, so I decided, "I won't let you leave me another ridiculous tip, so it's my treat."

"Okay." He nodded and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. "Then let's go."

"You do that a lot," I commented all of a sudden. Killua glanced at me, a questioning look on his face. "Keeping your hands in your pocket thing," I explained.

He spontaneity looked down at his hands, perhaps to make sure that he actually had them in his pockets. Then he replied awkwardly, "Umm, I—"

"By the way, it is said that sticking your hands in your pockets is a sign of insecurity or something, that you do not know what to do with your hands, that you are nervous," I said dismissively.

Killua narrowed his eyes. "Who said that?"

"I don't know. People?" I hate how that came out as a question.

Killua made a snorting sound in the back of his throat. "Let me tell you, those 'people' are really widespread everywhere in the region. And they really utter the weirdest things."

"Oh no, don't blame them. They may be right at some point," I argued with a serious tone. "I think you're trying to look more in control than you actually are. It is also considered a bad manner in few countries. It is disrespect."

Killua sighed in frustration, his priceless reaction made me feel a bit giddy. "Is this your idea of a conversation? Because it is not working. Besides, you're reminding me of Kurapika," he whined. My smile grew wider.

We arrived to stand in front of the restaurant. I looked out the darkened window.

"So where are we going?" I asked, trying to guess based on which direction we were headed.

"It's one of my favorites. It serves the best dessert," Killua answered and reached my hand to pull out the heavy door.

Inside the restaurant, it was cozy and the warm air of the heater was comfortable. The maitre recognized Killua immediately when we walked in.

"Killua-sama! How wonderful to see you again. Please, we have your table all ready for you," he said, leading us to the back of the restaurant.

Killua grinned. "How's the new baby?"

"She's great, Killua-sama. The most beautiful baby girl you have ever seen. She takes after her mother, thank goodness."

"That's good. She'd look a little funny with that mustache," Killua kidded, patting the old man on the back like they were friends.

The man pulled out a chair for me as he laughed. "Watch out for this young one, Miss. He'll have you laughing all night. The waiter should be with you in just a moment."

"Thank you," we said in unison, making us both smile.

The restaurant was a lovely little place, tucked away under a big market. It was like an intimate grotto with a low-ceiling, whitewashed walls, and rounded arches. Another old man was playing fluently and beautifully on a piano that was in the corner of the room. The lighting was faint and there were candles lit on each table. There was another lit fireplace on the wall opposite the door. Above the gorgeous cherry wood table was a very modern, rectangular light fixture that hung low. There was a long, narrow flower box in the center of the table filled with a variety of pale colored rosebuds. The walls in this room were painted a light grey and the ceiling was covered in intricately embossed tin tiles. It was quite lovely and not at all pretentious. Killua was full of surprises.

"That man seems to like you. He must not handle your lunch time meals very often," I said, opening the menu.

Killua quirked a brow. "Are you implying I'm not funny at lunchtime?"

"You are many things at lunchtime; funny is definitely not one of them," I answered honestly.

"I'll have to work on that then," he said with a nod and a small smile, picking up his menu.

We carried on an easy conversation, while we ate our strawberry cheesecakes. Killua was surprised at first by my choice of lunch meal, but he didn't seem to mind it at all.

"So, do you ever miss your home?" he asked, genuinely interested.

I shrugged, "The only thing I really missed about my home was my uncle. I sort of missed our milk fights and joking. I don't really like this side of York Shin; it's too cloudy and crowded and depressing."

"It makes sense why this was the home of all that emo grunge rock, right? The weather can certainly mess with one's head."

I would have to pay attention to the weather and Killua's moods. Maybe that could explain the shifts. He was looking at me with gentle eyes tonight. They reminded me of what I liked best about this part of the city.

His phone buzzed. Whoever was on the line made Killua's jaw tighten and his eyes darken a little bit but enough to make me nervous. He stood up and walked away from the table to have his conversation in private.

I fiddled anxiously with the napkin on my lap and my elbow over the table, wondering which Killua was going to return. This was going so well, but it could easily head south. He returned, avoiding my eyes.

The pianist finished playing his piece and some people applauded softly. His next piece was the _Swan Lake_ theme music, and despite the fact that it must have added a oppression feeling, I thought it sounded childish and girly.

"What is it?" Killua gazed between me and the pianist.

"Ah, nothing, really. But I loved this music. I used to practice to it every night when I was five," I muttered. "I did some ballet dancing when I was a kid, but then I stopped and never thought of getting back to it again."

"Why did you quit?" Killua asked. His question took me back to a prime time in my past.

I scoffed, waving my hand in the air. "_Looong_ story."

"Doesn't matter," he insisted.

"It's almost as depressing as the emo grunge rock," I joked in warning.

"Won't matter." His eyes were filled with curiosity. I eventually admitted defeat and decided to tell him.

I coughed in discomfort. "Well… I couldn't go to my first ballet show because then my parents and my brother got killed that morning, so I took that as a sign that maybe ballet was a bad luck for me. Morbid, isn't it?"

Killua's face darkened, and he stopped breathing abruptly, his hands clenched into tight fists over the table.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, not saying more than one or two words as the pianist continued with his rhythm.

"Umm…" I fidgeted in my seat. "Thank you."

He looked up slowly at me with a tortured pain emanating from his eyes. It was unmistakable even in the shadow of the faint light. "For, what, exactly are you thanking me?" he snapped ferociously. "Or do you just go around thanking everyone out of some weird hobby?"

My heart thumped double time, my body's fight or flight response took over.

This was what bothered me the most, not knowing what caused his mood to shift so drastically. I couldn't prevent it because I didn't know what caused it. One minute he was teasing me about asking how funny I looked when I was blathering, and the next he was an angry mute. I could never tell when the yelling was about to start.

"Uhh, _no_." I scowled at him. "I'm thanking you for not saying '_sorry_'. This word bugs me. You are one of the fewest people who didn't say 'I'm sorry' to me or show me that I'm a mentally disturbed little girl because of my loss. I appreciate that. That's it. What the hell's wrong with you?"

Killua relaxed momentarily. I was glaring at him when the good old maitre showed up again.

"How was your dinner, Miss? Did you and Killua-sama enjoy yourselves?"

"Dinner was excellent," I lied with as much of a smile as I could muster. "Thank you."

His smile was warm beneath his thick mustache. "Are you sure you don't want to have anything else? Killua-sama doesn't often bring a lovely lady friend here for lunch. This is usually where he comes alone. You must be someone special."

Little did this man know that Killua probably didn't think anyone was special.

I was still glaring at him when the old maitre excused himself.

"So…" Killua began awkwardly. "What now? What's happening? Are we fighting?"

"You snapped at me."

"…Yeah, but—"

"You snapped at me for no reason. Well, there's a reason—you obviously have multiple personality disorder. You have mood swings that rival a hormonal teenage girl. One minute you act all sweet and nice, and the next you become this totally different person, this horrible, rude, arrogant… _monster_," I accused. It felt good to snap back at him, to tell him exactly what I thought of him.

His face hardened. He opened his mouth to retort, but quickly closed it. Sighing, he said, "So, what now? What do you want?" His cocked an eyebrow. "Do you want me to apologize again?" he asked with a low laugh.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Well, that's a great idea. That sounds really nice. Yes, I want you to apologize."

"Really?"

"Yes. Go ahead."

Now it was Killua's turn to be rendered speechless. He stared at me like I had asked him to donate a kidney.

"I don't apologize," he said with no remorse. "Forget it. That's not going to happen."

He didn't apologize and didn't love. I actually felt sorry for him. What a sad and sorry way to go through life. I lost my appetite completely. There was not going to be any attempt on my part to get to know him today or ever.

"Fine." I stood up and circled the table, willing my legs to get moving. This outing was over.

Killua pulled an empty chair out from where he was sitting and threw it down forcefully on the floor, blocking my path before I could move any further. That didn't matter though because I stopped moving immediately. He scared the hell out of me.

The restaurant got terribly quiet—most costumers were staring, almost as disconcerted as I was.

"Get back to your chair," Killua said, gesturing at the seat I just left. I didn't move, my eyes moved back and forth from his hand to the chair on the floor. Trying to ignore the whispering and the murmuring, I sleep-walked back around the table and sat back down on my seat.

Killua reached a hand down and picked up the chair. He gave some people a '_keep your eyes in your plate_' glare before he turned back to look at me. He rubbed his jaw with his hand, his eyes blazing at my rebuttal. I readied myself for the possibility that he was going to burst this time.

"I don't apologize," he repeated, calmly, quietly, and I noticed his eyes were full of that distance I saw just before he told me he loved nothing. "I don't know how to apologize. I was raised in a place where I say something and people listen. I didn't have to explain myself or rationalize why I wanted something. I just got what I wanted when I wanted it, that's why, I don't know how to apologize. I don't apologize. But I was wrong. I was wrong to snap at you for no good reason. For that, I'm sorry."

That was not what I was expecting him to say — at all.

There was this tiny bit of vulnerability there, lurking underneath all the other crap he tried to put out all the time.

"Fine," I said curtly.

"Is that a good fine or a 'I'm going to take off and leave without a word' fine?"

"I'm fine."

"You look like you want to hurt someone, that's all."

"I'm fine," I protested. "I don't want to hurt anyone. I'm totally fine. Why the hell would I want to hurt anyone? I'm absolutely fine."

"Good. You're fine, absolutely fine," he mimicked.

I waited three seconds before I spat, "You had no right to do that. I don't even know you."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You can… get to know me."

"Okay. How old are you?" I blurted out.

"Seventeen," he answered easily. "What about you?"

"I'll be turning fifteen in three weeks." I shook my head. "You don't get to ask me any questions. Where did you grow up?"

He paused for a second, cautiously choosing his words. His answer was careful and measured. "In a far place away from here."

I pursed my lips, not satisfied by the unspecific answer, but carried on anyway. "Do you have a family?"

"Yes." He sounded like he was annoyed. It reminded me of the time when I mentioned his brothers on the roof of my building. Even though I had the idea that he was just giving me the 'short short' answers, I decided to also let that one slide. I didn't want him to get all emo on me again, at least not today.

"Do you see them from time to time?"

"I left my family house when I was twelve," he replied slowly, "and I haven't seen any of my family members since then."

"Why did you leave?"

"Landmine," he choked out, eyes tightening.

Family — off limits. Confusing, but good to know. I sat quietly, waiting him out, hoping he would regain his composure.

"Do you miss them?"

He looked like he remembered something funny. "Sometimes," he admitted.

* * *

_"That's cheating!" the nine-year-old assassin shouted in frustration. "You know how I feel about cheating, Goto." A tall man in a black clean suit chuckled silently at the little boy's reaction. Placing the golden coin on the table that was in front of them, he turned his gaze to the boy whose face was flushed from the anger._

_"Killua-sama, I do believe that playing fair is not necessarily the best tactic," he simply said, smiling playfully._

_"What do you mean? Are you saying that lying is good?"_

_"Not exactly." Goto knitted his fingers together and rested his hands on his lap. "But sometimes if you follow the rules, you miss all the fun."_

_The white-haired boy thought about it deeply. Then he glanced at his green skateboard that was leaning at the wall. "Kanaria refused to play with me," he said frugally, but his tone was showing great irritation._

_Goto frowned, drinking his coffee, maintaining a provocative look. "That's not what I meant," he said, pausing a moment. "And don't forget that Kanaria has no choice."_

_The cool summer breeze was a caress on their skin; it infiltrated surreptitiously through the opened windows. "Because the rules here are different?" Killua guessed._

_"Everything in this place is different from the outside world."_

_"Well," Killua said as he pulled his hands behind his neck, stretching his back and limbs. "I hate this place."_

_Goto laughed lightly at the frankness of the little boy before he replied, "You know your father wouldn't be happy if he heard you saying such things." Another black-suited man walked in the massive room. He moved to whisper something to Goto who nodded giving him his cue to leave. "Killua-sama," he called out, "your mother wants you in the mansion right away. She won't appreciate it if you get late on your mission tonight."_

_Killua rolled his eyes irritably. "Fine." He stood up letting himself out of the place. He suddenly whirled to look at the long-haired man. "Goto," he said softly._

_Goto blinked at the tone, his hands on both his sides ready to bow to his master. "Yes, Killua-sama?"_

_"Sometimes I wish you were my father." The white-haired boy walked past Goto's frozen form, and left him behind. The servant's eyes gentled for a moment before he bowed obediently.  
_

* * *

I think I was little bit tipsy as we left the restaurant, and I noticed that the weather got chillier than it was before. "Hold those for a second." I handed Killua my bag and my phone to put on my jacket after I refused immaculately to let the waiter do that action because I was feeling slightly uncomfortable about his ultimate nice behavior.

The wind was roaring, blowing my hair in the wrong direction. "Damn," I hissed most likely to myself. Killua laughed for the second time for today, and the rich sound flowed over me like milk chocolate. "What?"

"It amuses me when you swear."

"Why?"

Killua looked me up and down. "Because you're so tiny."

"I'm _5' 5_"," I argued.

"To me, that's tiny."

I made a small _Mmph!_ of annoyance as I struggled to put on the jacket. The constant wind felt like a giant hairdryer pushing me in the opposite direction where I was.

My phone buzzed in Killua's hand. I took it back and there was a message from Marcus.

_I want you to come over. Now if you can._

I shook my head and shoved my phone into my back pocket.

"Everything okay?" Killua checked.

"It's just my friend Marcus. He's probably in some trouble. It can wait." After two seconds, my phone beeped again.

_NOW!_

"—or not," I grunted. "I should take a cab."

"Okay." Killua took one of his hands out of his pocket to wave for a cab to stop, and found one immediately. I thought it was better for me to thank him and tell him that I had a nice day, sort of. But my tongue was held when I caught him staring at me. I let out a noise that sounded a little like the word _what?_ when I saw Killua's hand, hesitantly, reaching toward my face. I stayed still, curious about what he was doing. He extended a single finger and brushed my chin lightly. When he pulled his hand back, I saw a small amount of whipped chocolate on his thumb. His touch was electric, both literally and metaphorically.

My face went scarlet.

Voices in my head started chattering, _You may want to breathe. They say it's essential for survival_.

"G'night," Killua said. I tried to say the same thing, but my words were frozen. Managing a small smile on my face, I left him to stumble drunkenly into the cab, narrowly avoiding contact with the ceiling.


	7. Severity

**I do not own Hunter X Hunter.**

* * *

_**7. Severity**_

**Killua's PoV**

I watched as she floundered blindly into the car, with slow and rigid movements. Like a little girl trying to walk in her mother's heels. And despite the guilt that I carried in my heart, I found myself smiling at the scene before me. She didn't change; she was still the same little girl I had always known, only taller and stronger. I suppose I had developed a slight fascination for her because of the aura she emitted; she had the same magical aura that surrounded Gon. She had color in what had previously been a black and white world for me, with the occasional gray.

That was not me. I always believed that the tremendous guilt I had felt that night was because of the fact that I was only nine. I persuaded myself that it was interfering with my childhood naivety and immaturity. I liked the idea that I managed to convince myself that I didn't have any emotions towards her. But the truth was that I was blaming myself for everything happened in her life after that night, for every bewildering pain that she suffered from because of me. And basically because I built my life by devastating hers.

Control. I was wearing the mask of control the whole time. The familiar mask that never failed in hiding the emotions boiling within me.

The rain drizzled down greasily on the pavement stones. The wind crept up to moan beside me, murmuring peacefully through the trees, and provoking strange feelings deep inside me. The sun sunk slowly in the west as the clouds rolled through the sky. "Tch." Gritting my teeth in frustration, I pulled up my hood and walked quietly the rest of the way, desperately trying to fathom the intense sensations growing inside my chest. Feelings of remorse and shame coupled with maudlin and self hatred.

_What the…?_

Of course that was not me. I never experienced such feelings. My hands balled in fists in my pockets. All my life, I soaked up the anger, raw and passionate, like a sponge. There was nothing I could offer to her. Nothing I could do to change the reality. And if she had wanted to kill me, I don't believe I would have stopped her.

* * *

_The tiny footsteps of the six-year-old girl echoed throughout the empty hall as she cautiously made her way to listen to her parents' conversation in her father's room. Their voices were loud and panicked as they argued about stuff she could hardly understand. She peaked her head in the slightly open door, her eyes blazing with both fear and curiosity._

_"This is bad!" her mother said as she clutched at her head in exasperation. "This is really bad!" Her voice moaned in agony as she struggled to stop her tears from coming out._

_Her father was holding a sheet of paper in his hands, looking down at it with terrifying eyes. He managed to raise his head slowly to look at his shaking wife. "Calm down, Haruka!" he shouted in a demented voice which made the little girl behind the door frame tremble. "This is not a good time to activate your paranoia! We should think about this leisurely."_

_"How can you be so calm about this? It's a blackmail for God's sake!" Haruka's voice was high pitched and abnormally squeaky. She moved to take a seat at the nearest chair in the small office room._

_"I think it's a joke. A really bad one."_

_Haruka snorted in derision while massaging her temples. "You're ridiculous, Akira."_

_Akira hurriedly grabbed a lighter and popped a cigarette between his lips. His hands were shaking so hard he couldn't hold the lighter steady enough to ignite the flame. He dropped it angrily, not even noticing how it went out when it hit the floor, and buried his face in his hands. "Look at the handwriting!" he said as he handed the paper to his wife. "The blackmailer is a kid!"_

_"It doesn't matter who wrote the letter now!" his wife yelled, refusing to take the paper from his hand. "I told you we should have written our will sooner." Haruka's eyes started to become wet as she thought about her kids. What would happen to them if she and her husband got killed? Who would take care of them?_

_"Nothing is going to happen to us. I will show the blackmail to the company tomorrow morning and they will tell us what to do," Akira said._

_"I will call Sam and ask him to come here for few weeks. We should let him know what's going on."_

_"Sam's coming?" Both of them flinched when they heard the voice of their little child. Yuki was standing barefooted on the floor, hugging her doll tightly._

_In a swift motion, Haruka wiped the teardrops from her cheeks and stood up rather abruptly. "Yuki Why aren't you in bed, sweetie?"_

_"I had a bad dream," Yuki replied and started to fiddle nervously with her nails._

_"Oh, that's so?" Haruka knelt to be at eye level with her daughter. She gently separated Yuki's hands from each other and said, "Tell me about it."_

_"I was dancing in the show and ," the little girl trailed off, glancing sheepishly at her father who was watching her blankly. "I fell on my butt!" she finally said._

_Haruka grinned. "Don't worry about that, sweetie. Next week you'll do great. You are a wonderful dancer!"_

_"No, mom. I suck!" Haruka's grin turned into laughter as she turned her head to look at her husband who was smiling weakly at his daughter's words before the frown suddenly found its way back to his lips._

_"You should sleep now."_

_Yuki's gaze flickered briefly between her parents. "Mom, what's going on?"_

_Haruka brushed her daughter's hair fondly. "Nothing," she lied.  
_

* * *

**Yuki's PoV**

I sat silently in the cab seat, staring outside the side windows as the raindrops started to come down heavily blurring the driver's vision, and washing the streets of York Chin while turning it into a ghost town. The smell of the rain was heavenly, like wind flowing over fallen trees, like rust and dirt. It was invigorating. The car was briefly illuminated by a passing street light, before going dark again.

I rested my chin on my palm and observed over what I'd done wrong in my date with Killua. No, it wasn't exactly a date. It was more like a friendly hang. Despite the blushing part, everything went perfectly good and I actually enjoyed myself. The butterflies started dancing happily in my stomach while I remembered what happened before I climbed in the cab. What was that feeling?

_You like him._

I never said that.

_You didn't have to._

Shut up.

Once I had finished arguing with myself, and I had to admit that I probably had lost, I decided to keep my eyes on the road. I suddenly noticed that the driver was looking at me from his rear view mirror. Now that was creepy. I ignored him. The ride was awfully silent to the point of uneasiness, leaving no sound apart from the pattering of the rain on the windows and the scraping of the wipers across the windshield.

"You were smiling to yourself." The driver's sharp voice made me shudder. It took me few seconds to absorb that he was talking to me.

I blinked. "What?" Was I smiling for real? Noway.

"You were smiling to yourself," he repeated. "It seems like you remembered something funny."

"Hmm…." I ignored him again. I was taking my mother's advice about talking to strangers quite seriously. I could tell that the old driver was not going to leave me alone any time soon because he was still gazing at me in such a horrifying matter. He was wearing a navy woolly hat which allowed me to draw attention to how thick his eyebrows were. His eyes were huge in his face, complimented by a mixture of bags. Definitely not the type of men I want anywhere near me.

"He seems like a nice young man," he suddenly said. My eyes widened when I imagined him reading my thoughts.

"Excuse me?" I sputtered.

I shivered when he flashed me a quick smile. "The boy with the white hair," he explained. My face was slowly heating up. How in the world? Uh, right. He did see Killua with me earlier. "He is nice, isn't he?"

Wait. Did he also see the little moment between us? Great. If my face had been any redder, I'm sure it would have burst into flames. Because you know, what I really wanted was to get suspicious looks from this stranger who I was forced to be stuck alone with for another more minutes. Ugh Killua was the only one to blame.

_I told you that you like him._

Shut up!

The old man chuckled under his breath, amused of my reaction. After a five minutes that felt like a lifetime, the cab pulled over and stopped in front of a small building where Marcus worked as a detective in the Major Crime Unit. I reached into my bag for the money to pay the annoying driver, and quickly opened the shabby door, getting myself out of the car. When the car was out of my sight, I felt a shiver running down my spine. I shook my head numbly trying to forget what happened there.

I carefully walked in the slippery streets to the building entrance, avoiding to let the old janitor notice me. With slow and sneaky steps, I walked passed him hoping he wouldn't talk to me. When I reached the stairs peacefully, I exhaled in relief.

"Yuki?" I heard the voice of the old man from behind me, shocked and joyful.

I whirled slowly and forced myself to smile a little bit. "Oh! Takeshi-san! How you doing?" I greeted him in a friendly way, but it was obvious that I was slightly annoyed. He smiled kindly under his heavy mustache.

"As you can see, I'm doing great. How are you, kid? I haven't seen you in such a long time! Where have you been? How is your uncle? The last time you came here you were this tall! Marcus told me that you got a job the other day. That's great! I can tell that you really missed my stories, didn't you?" He raised his hand to make a fake gun with his fingers and winked at me.

Yeah, that was exactly why I wanted to escape the conversation with him.

I grinned from ear to ear. "Of course I did, Takeshi-san." The lie was terrible, but it was good enough to fool the old man.

"I knew it!" Takeshi's voice was full of delight. "Are you here to visit Marcus?"

"Yes," I answered quickly. "I am. Actually he asked me to come here immediately without telling me what's going on. Do you know something?"

Takeshi's eyes expressed a little concern. "I think it is serious, because this afternoon he looked upset over something. He even ignored me when I talked to him!" the old man said with a pout.

"God, Takeshi!" Marcus suddenly was behind me, his hands were on his hips and his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. Even though the last time I saw him was three months ago, I noticed that he changed a lot. His hair was light brown in color with bleached spikes, and his eyes were a shade of gray, depending on the light. What surprised me the most was how sharp his facial features had become, and he looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. Being a detective was taking a lot of him, robbing his social life away and keeping him from having a normal one. "How am I suppose to naturally talk to you when I'm carrying a very heavy load of documents along with my laptop?" he asked firmly.

The old man waved his hand in the air. "You're rude."

Marcus ignored the comment and turned to look at me. "Hey," he said as he pinched my cheek. "Takeshi was boring you, wasn't he?"

I smiled awkwardly in return.

Takeshi stood up with effort, revealing his hunched back as he took closer steps towards Marcus. "Listen to me oh-so-great-detective, I was trying to entertain this young lady for you," he said in a querulous voice. "Look how pale she is because of you!"

I had no idea about that.

Marcus frowned. "I appreciate that, Takeshi. Now if you excuse us we have a lot of work to do," he replied as he grabbed my elbow and pulled me towards the stairs. We heard the old janitor cursing under his breath in what sounded like old Japanese before we began our journey to Marcus' office.

"You look horrible," I suddenly commented. Marcus glanced at me for a moment from the corner of his eyes.

"It's nice to see you too," he replied. I chuckled lightly.

We were standing in front of the office. Marcus picked up the keys and opened the door. "No seriously, what's happening? You sounded desperate on the phone. A complex case?" I asked.

"Sort of," he answered me flatly while searching for something on the shelf. I stepped gingerly into the messy office, careful not to bump against a stack of crates that were placed in front of the safe, for some reason. Marcus drew near me holding a piece of paper in his hand that looked like a photo.

"You know this guy?"

I placed my thumb to my bottom lip and fished in my brain, trying to remember the familiar face of the man in the photo. He looked elite, dominant and clearly wealthy. He was kind of bald, and he had a short refined beard. "Yes, I saw him this morning. He is one of the participant guests in the auction this year," I said.

"His name is Kenji Aizawa. I want you to inform your boss of the requirements of keeping a strict surveillance on him. Also, tell him that I personally demand him to make a decision to fully support the investigation. We really need that."

"Why? What's going on?" I wondered.

Marcus sat down and started to flip around the papers he had in his hands. "He was blackmailed this afternoon. Apparently the blackmailer threatens to kill Aizawa during the auction."

"What?" I exclaimed in disbelief, not meaning he should repeat it. "Do you have the threat letter?"

"No," he replied calmly, not looking at me. "Aizawa refused to expose it to us in any form. I think the blackmailer is revealing something highly personal in the letter that may ruin Aizawa's business career."

I snorted. "What the hell is wrong with this man? He's worried about his future when he is going to die any minute?"

My mind swam in thoughts and possibilities. Obviously the blackmailer intended to write those personal information in the letter because he or she was aware of the fact that Aizawa cared so much about his career, and it would be impossible for someone like him to easily enclose his awful business secrets to anyone. It was a smart decision on the blackmailer's part.

"Well, Aizawa is not taking this seriously as we wanted him to. He stated that he is going to be involved normally in the auction, leaving everything to the police and his bodyguards," Marcus replied. I moved to sit down. Nausea threatened to overcome me and I monitored my breathing careful not to panic.

Marcus turned his face towards me. "Breathe," he commanded. "Nothing is going to happen. I just want you to pass this information to your boss." He squeezed my hand gently.

I nodded and seemed to come back to my senses a bit. "I will," I reassured. "Actually I should go and talk to him now. What time is it?"

Marcus took a glance at his watch. "Almost seven-thirty," he answered. I got up to get out of the place, still slightly unfocused. "Hey, Yuki," he called out.

I looked at him dizzily. "Ye-ah?" I drew out the word, giving it multiple syllables.

"Take care," he demanded. "Please." His sharp features were instantly gone, and the earlier anger in his tone was replaced by concern as his pleading eyes stared into mine.

Managing to keep a neutral expression, I smiled and nodded slowly before leaving the office. Being the paranoid person I was, and hating myself for it, I manually started to have visions of every possible disaster that could happen in the next four weeks.

What if the history was repeating itself?

Five years ago, York Chin witnessed one of the most audacious crimes in its history which caused a lot of destruction and killings. Over two thousand member of the Mafia along with the auction guests were killed fearsomely when the Spiders arrived to steal the treasures. What if the man who blackmailed Aizawa was as ferocious and merciless? I shook my head fiercely, trying to rid myself of the images clouding my mind.

I stepped outside into the cold night air. The rain stopped its course leaving behind the smells of wet earth, soaked wood and the fragrance of sagebrush. Trying to distract my mind from making its own theories and calculations, I ran down the streets like a maniac. I wanted my paranoia to stop spiraling out of my control.


	8. Vulnerable

**I do not own Hunter X Hunter.**

* * *

_**8. Vulnerable**_

I placed the photo on the table in front of Kurapika a bit harder than necessarily. "Kenji Aizawa."

The blond quietly observed the photo, trying to recognize the face of the man who I just gave him his name. His gaze flickered from the photo to me, his confusion growing evident. I took that as an invitation to explain.

"He's one of the guests," I said between heavy breaths from the grueling running. "We should keep an eye on him."

Kurapika frowned. "I'm afraid I'm not following you."

"This man is a target, and he might be killed any minute during the auction period." I realized I was yelling those words mindlessly at him in a desperately panicked voice, but I couldn't care less about that right now. I was still trying to get rid of those awful images which were dwelling in my mind thus my heart.

"Please sit down," Kurapika demanded, slightly irritated by the way I was behaving. In a distracted manner, I complied to his request and found myself a seat in which I made myself stable. "Now tell me, how did you know this?"

Kurapika listened silently as I recounted the conversation between me and Marcus, not showing any signs of terror or anxiety in his expression. He seemed like he was expecting something like that to happen sooner or later, and I realized that maybe I was overrating. I mostly blame my paranoia for this.

When I was done, I waited for his response. "That's not good," he finally said. I was wondering why his expression didn't seem to match his words, like a badly dubbed movie, voices not quite appearing to correspond with the mouthed words. "But anyway, I will take care of this."

My eyes widened in disappointment. "That's it?" I had no idea how he was able to control his reactions in such a way as to prevent them from interfering with his rational thinking process.

"Yes," he answered calmly. "Were you expecting me to do anything else?" Well Yeah, I did expect him to call for an urgent meeting where he could inform everyone about this, but apparently he was not intending to put more pressure on the others' shoulders.

"No," I lied. "But are you sure we will be able to keep him alive? I mean, what if the blackmailer is a Zaoldyeck?" I almost frowned at the last word in distaste, but kept my expression blank. To be honest, I was considering that option all the way here. And in spite of how much I tried not to think about the consequences of the probability of such an occurrence, my thoughts seemed to roam afar both in space and time. I couldn't manage to control the way my mind being manipulated by the negative marbles.

Kurapika touched his thumb to his chin and said, "Did that detective mention anything about the Zaoldyecks?"

"No, that was just me thinking about the worst."

Kurapika pulled out his phone and dialed a number within a few seconds, a bemused look on his face. "Senritsu, I want you to be here with Basho, Gon and Killua right away."

I blinked. "What about the rest? You're not going to tell them?" I asked.

He looked at me. "I'm not sure about that yet," he mused.

I considered this while staring suspiciously at him. For a moment, he looked very young for his age. And I was sure there was something wrong with his eyes, something that had changed from the last time I'd seen him. "Your eyes are blue," I instinctively commented. "They were black this morning." It came out as a question more than a statement.

"Uh Yeah," he said as he looked away from my gaze. I noticed a hint of blush on his face which made me smile a little bit. It was strangely funny witnessing such a manner from him. "What is the name of your detective friend?" He was obviously trying to avoid the conversation.

"Marcus," I answered quickly before I promptly asked, "What's your natural eye color?" I tried to fathom the reason why my curiosity was aroused in the highest degree. It was strangely entertaining for me to have such a talk with him, like a student seeing a teacher outside of school for the first time.

He awkwardly began to file the papers laid out on top of the desk, refusing to look at me as he answered, "Blue."

I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You wear contacts?" I asked him, suddenly ashamed of my lack of self-control.

"Yes."

"But _why_?" My hesitant voice reflected the confusion displaying across my face. "Your eye-color is beautiful," I said dreamily. Hearing the last sentence, Kurapika abruptly turned his face towards me, and that was when I noticed just how flirtatious I sounded. Damn. Damn. Damn. How could anyone fix something like that? Why did I always have to put myself in the most excruciating situations possible? I crossed my legs and brushed my hair nervously out of my face.

The knock on the door saved me.

"Come on in, Senritsu," Kurapika ordered.

Oh. Did I mention how much I like Senritsu for always picking the right moment to show up? She saved me this morning from the urge to wish a violent death upon Killua, and now she saved me the trouble of deciding which trivial explanation should I go for which would probably made me look like a complete chump.

The massive door opened to bring in Senritsu who was escorted by Killua, Gon and Basho. I felt myself getting uncomfortable the minute I had my eyes on Basho. He was one of the people who could imbibe all my energy just by looking at them.

Gon greeted me with a childlike smile which I instantly returned. Killua avoided eye contact with me as if he had something to hide. Ugh. His mood swings started to give me doubts of his sanity. I rolled my eyes and ignored him as well.

"Man, I was enjoying my last two days rest and you totally ruined that for me," Basho complained.

Kurapika closed his eyes and said, "This meeting is being held because I want to inform you of a piece of information I believe you may be interested in." He picked up Aizawa's photo. "This man's name is Kenji Aizawa. He is most likely in danger because of a blackmail he received this afternoon from an anonymous person," he finished.

I was the only one who was sitting while the rest of them stood up in front of the office desk, and that helped me to examine their reactions which honestly made me a little disappointed. Senritsu was probably the only one who reacted the way I did. But despite the panic her eyes expressed, she somehow managed to stay calm unlike me.

"Do you have the threat letter?" I suppressed a smile when Killua quoted the exact same question I asked Marcus.

"Unfortunately we don't," Kurapika responded, "I was hoping we will be able to convince Aizawa to show it to us, because he strictly refusing to do so."

"That is what you want us to do in the next two days?" Gon inquired.

"Basically I want you to keep Aizawa alive," Kurapika answered somberly. "But at the same time, I don't want that to distract you from keeping an eye on everyone else."

"Understood," Gon said, smiling with excitement.

"I'll be right back. I have something to do," Senritsu stated before leaving the room.

"Hey, Kurapika," Basho spoke with a stern voice. "I was wondering about something."

"Yes?"

"With all due respect, why did you ask these three for the meeting among the other bodyguards?" Apparently, the 'with all due respect' was for Kurapika, because he was insulting us in an obvious sort of way.

Gon's eyes widened in indignity. "What does that mean?"

Kurapika held his hand up to stop Gon from talking.

"Basho, you know that those three are professional Hunters."

"Yes, but…" Basho interjected.

"But?" I promoted.

"They look like rookies to me," Basho finally blurted out.

"Basho-kun?" I asked sweetly, his expression suddenly turned wary. I don't usually use honorifics. If I did it, then it meant I was extremely pissed. "Why exactly do you think we're rookies? Is it because we're young? Or were you just referring to_ me_ because of my gender?"

Basho upturned his chin, his gaze defiantly resting on me. "I just don't understand why Kurapika preferred to ask little kids to deal with such a serious matter."

I let out a small chuckle, hiding the irritation I felt. "Interesting." Basho raised his eyebrow, inviting me to continue. "I believe you are insulting Kurapika's intelligence by saying we are not qualified to handle this mission considering that he was the one who hired us in the first place."

Gon nodded. Killua said nothing.

"Quiet," Kurapika enjoined.

But Basho wasn't willing to let this argument go unchallenged. I could tell he liked having the last word just as much as I did. He whirled around to face me, his face a mixture of surprise, loathing, and a trace of his earlier superiority. "How dare you accuse me of something like that?"

I didn't flinch or even blink at his outburst. "You are the one who is embarrassing himself by underestimating us without even having the slightest idea about our abilities." Crossing my arms, I continued, "Ever heard about the dire consequences of judging a book by its cover?"

Basho seemed manifestly vexed by the indirect threat, though he tried to keep his voice steady. "Are you saying that I fail at judging people?"

Killua lowered his eyelids in annoyance.

"Impressive! You are a lot more intelligent than I gave you credit for," I teased with a small smirk. "Yes, I think you are very bad at judging. Which ironically, proves that you are lousy rookie yourself."

Growling angrily, Basho roughly said, "_You little brat_! Do you realize the age difference between us?"

I was about to remind him that Kurapika was the same age as me when he took over the position of the boss, the position that he was not good enough to handle, but I remained speechless when Killua looked at Basho and made his first reaction.

"Are you ever going to shut up? You're boring the hell out of me." Killua's voice was sharp and monotone, not a single ounce of emotion in it. Before Gon and Kurapika could stop him, Basho grabbed Killua's shoulders and began shaking him. Basho was at the edge of losing his temper, but he was probably refusing to take such a behavior on a 'little' girl like me. That was the reason why he was easily provoked by Killua's words. I felt my own shoulders aching as Basho's stiff fingers dug into Killua's skin.

The intensity suddenly went up another level as Gon stood between the two of them, slightly pushing Killua back whose hands were still resting in his pockets. I blinked, derailed by his lack of argument. Kurapika came forward attempting to pull Basho away from Killua as the shaking grew more violent.

When they eventually separated, Basho was practically frothing at the mouth now, as he turned on Kurapika behind him. "Excuse me, Kurapika, but I'm afraid you have to let go of me before I hurt you," Basho warned.

I stood up and decided to do something about this. I hadn't expected him to become that drastic.

"I'm going to kill you!" Basho threatened, looking straight into Killua's eyes.

Killua's smirk was one of genuine amusement. "Kill me, huh?" He adverted his gaze to Basho whose teeth were bared. "Then I think we should move this outside, don't you think?" Basho took a step back. The thought made me feel sick to my stomach. I blamed myself for not cutting this damn conversation earlier.

"Killua!" Kurapika shouted. "Drop this! Both of you," he commanded loudly.

"Fine by me!" Basho responded to Killua's request, totally ignoring Kurapika's.

Killua took slow steps towards the hairy man who was still held back by Kurapika. "Looks like you're so eager to be taken down by the rookie," Killua said, venom dripped from his words as if he hoped by saying them Basho would succumb to their poison. It worked; Basho stopped a few feet away from Killua to stand completely still.

"Enough!" I yelled standing in Killua's way. Both of my hands on his chest, pushing him back in vain. His eyes were still locked on Basho's, glaring at him blankly. "What would it solve if one of you died?" I said firmly. "We have way bigger issues to worry about for the next four weeks!"

After a heavy silence, Killua relaxed under my touch. "You have a point," he said. Geez, he had a temper.

As Gon sighed in relief, Kurapika's tight grip on Basho's shoulder sagged. "This meeting is over," he declared sharply. His stare was so intense it could melt the skin right off our bones.

Gon nudged Killua. "Hey, let's go." I heard him whisper. Killua slowly glanced down at me, his gaze focused boringly on my hands. I suddenly realized that my hands were still pressed against his chest. I dropped them hastily in an attempt to conceal my embarrassment.

* * *

Since we got out of the meeting room, the three of us did nothing more than sitting silently on one of the stairs outside the building. The street lights were so bright it seemed like the stars were not shining enough. Suddenly, a tall man stood directly in front of my face, blocking the view. "Who is this young lady?" He put his finger under my chin. I shuddered.

"Hey, Leorio," Gon greeted, and I struggled to remember where I heard this name.

"Hey!" Leorio widened his smile in a ridiculous sort of way. "Why are you sitting here like conspirators?"

"We're trying to figure out our next move," Gon replied lamely. "Where's your fiancée?"

Oh yes, I knew him. The first time I met Killua was on this guy's engagement day. For some reason, I imagined him to be more sedate for a guy who was about to get married. Stop being so judgmental, I internally reprimanded myself.

"She's hanging out with her friends so I thought I com—"

I cut him off to randomly blurt out, "You look like Daddy Long Legs."

Killua snorted and leaned back on the stairs, resting his elbows on the upper step. "What a cute nickname."

"Who's Daddy Long Legs?" Gon questioned with a tilt of his head, suppressing mirth.

"It's a very old cartoon," I answered, grinning.

"Oh."

"Speaking of very old, what are _you_ doing here, Leorio?" Killua asked.

A single vein appeared momentarily on Leorio's forehead. "I'm here to invite Kurapika to dinner. He told me that he has two days off." All of a sudden, he sharpened his features dramatically. "By the way! You should invite _me_ to dinner since you skipped my party to run off with some girl." He pointed at Killua, who immediately flinched and I chocked on my drink.

"_What_?" Killua's voice was louder than usual, his expression turned comical. "Who told you that?"

"Gon," Leorio answered easily. "Was she beautiful?"

I face-palmed. Like this day needed to get any worse.

"I didn't skip your party. And I definitely didn't run off with anyone. I was just getting some fresh air. Perhaps Gon should have added this little piece of information, right, Gon?" Killua glared at his black-haired friend who scratched his head nervously.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't seem to keep Leorio from whining without mentioning the word 'girl' in the context," Gon said defensively.

"Ugh. Whatever."

"You didn't tell me who is this?" Leorio smiled sorta creepily at me.

I began, "I'm—" But I was interrupted by Gon.

"This is her: the girl who was with Killua that night," Gon said as he winked at Leorio. It seemed like I didn't embarrass myself enough for today.

"Ohhh." Leorio moved to sit next to me, so close his shoulder was touching mine. "Alright then, _sweetie_," he began, putting a strange emphasis on the last word. I raised my eyebrows. "Let me tell you something interesting about Killua. First of all, he has the gambling bug, so you should think this through. Also, he's very grumpy and moody, so _definitely_ think this through. Oh, and I almost forgot: he has a long-term relationship with his candy, so you gotta expect some competition―" Before Leorio could say anything further, Killua's grip was on my wrist forcing me to stand up. It took me out of the blue and I followed him without saying anything as he dragged me along with him.

"What was that?" I asked at last. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, though underneath the awkwardness, I was slightly amused.

"Oh, you should thank me for saving your butt."

"My butt or _your_ butt?"

He looked at me, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Does it really matter to you?"

I didn't know what to say. His casual comments were rather strange sometimes, causing my thoughts to circle around _does he mean what I think he means?_ and _what exactly do I think he means_?

He smiled. "I didn't mean to startle you."

_But you obviously mean to confuse me,_ I thought. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "No, I'm not startled, but I'm kinda freaked out and impressed."

His smile grew wider, breaking into a grin. "Impressed?"

"Well, yeah. I'm impressed by _myself_. My reflexes finally failed me."

He laughed at my response, a real laugh that I could feel reverberating throughout his body. That gave me a sense of victory. He really should laugh more. He should laugh all the time. When we were in a good distance away from Gon and Leorio's spot, our paces slowed down a bit, and Killua let go of my wrist.

"In other words, do I impress you?" he asked, humoring me.

I rolled my eyes at him. "You're unbelievable."

"And why is that?"

"Because I can no longer predict how to perceive your inner self. One moment you're pleasant, the next you're—" _A jerk_. "—not."

He smirked. "Does it irk you?"

"Yes. Pretty much," I answered honestly. "It's like you have a switch or something. One moment you're nice and the next _BAM!_ you're—" _A giant asshole._ "—not. Like how you acted with Basho. I feel like your brain occasionally demonstrates capability when not too busy being cute and coming up with juvenile quips—"

"So you think I'm cute?"

I looked up at him. "Huh?"

Killua smiled proudly. "You said I was cute."

"No, I didn't."

"My brain might be dysfunctional, but my memory isn't."

I scowled and crossed my arms over my chest. "Even if I did say that, your interpretation is flawed. I didn't actually _mean_—"

"What you said was: I was 'too busy being cute and coming up with juvenile quips.'"

"Well, yeah, that _is_ what I said but—"

"So there it is. I was being cute."

"And coming up with juvenile quips!"

"But only _after_ being cute."

"I didn't—" I huffed at the sly smile spreading across his face. "You know what? Whatever."

Killua chuckled breathlessly. "Then I'll try to do something about the juvenile quips," he decided. "But I can't do anything about the 'being cute' thing. It comes naturally."

I couldn't help but smile. "Screw you."

I was frustrated at the sight of my building. Moments were much less tedious when he was around. We stopped in front of the entrance.

I whirled to face him. "So I guess I should go home and sleep now. I'm sure the bags under my eyes are getting bigger and more pronounced," I said.

"Yeah, I wasn't going to mention the bags," he teased, grinning lightly, but sobered after I shot him a glare.

We stayed quiet for few moments, before I figured I should go inside. "Good night now."

"Hold on." He tucked his hand inside of his pocket. Unsure of what he was doing, I stood still watching him as he kept searching. Eventually, he pulled out a lollipop and handed it to me. I accepted it with a warm smile, enjoying the playful gesture.

"It will entertain you on your _long_ journey along the stairs," he said.

"Thank you," I chuckled.

He held the entrance door, waited for me to go inside before he let go of his hand from the door. I unwrapped the lollipop, placing it in my mouth while watching his back unintentionally from the glass door as he walked off. I smiled to myself when I heard the voices in my head chattering again.

_Have you made your mind yet?_

Yup. I like him.

If only I'd known how much that would suck later.


	9. Confined

**I do not own Hunter X Hunter.**

* * *

_**9. Confined**_

I felt sick.

It wasn't something that I was accustomed to. In the past five years, at least. I was often fatigued due to staying awake for long amounts of time, but I rarely actually felt ill. I had to admit that I was not taking good care of myself in the past few days. Wanna know exactly what was happening to me? I was acting like a stupid six year old girl all over again, stubbornly walking and running in the rain as if I didn't notice it. Until this day where I guess my immunity decided that enough was enough and crashed on me.

My eyelids were heavy begging me to join them together. The niggling sore in my throat was like a knife pain every time I swallowed, causing my voice to crack attractively when I spoke. Exhaustion was fresh in my veins it made me feel disoriented, and whatever I said didn't make sense.

I needed to pull myself together. I was facing this challenge head on, with the tenacity and vigor that I had been seeking all along. I gathered enough of my meager energy to pull the entrance door open as I cursed at the cold streams of air that fluttered on my burning face because of the surprising intensity of my pull. I shut my waiting eyelids for a split second to get rid of the searing tears that started to blur my vision, and I was greeted by a powerful push by that tall man who was stepping outside the building. The interaction forced my shaking hands to drop whatever was in them and I looked up at him dangerously.

He shook his head coolly. "Girls are not supposed to be here," he murmured to his followers before climbing in his limousine. The sexist bastard! He even couldn't be bothered to waste his breath to apologize. Unfortunately, I was too tired to shove myself in an argument with him.

With effort, I bent over slowly to pick up my things just to realize that there were other hands helping me with the process. In a gentlemanly move, Gon gave me my bags with a smile. "Here."

"You are my hero," I joked as I accepted the heavy bags, throwing the first one on my shoulder and keeping the other in my hand. "Those thankless guests are a real nuisance."

Gon grinned. "Yeah, these things happen," he comforted me.

"Why are you here? I know I'm here because I should do some paper work for Kurapika."

"Actually he asked us to do those papers as well." I suppressed a smile by pursing my lips in a lazy phrased demeanor at the word _us_. When we were finally inside of the warm building, my eyes searched in anticipation for the white-haired boy. "You look so pale today," Gon commented, slightly concerned.

Damn. "Yes, that's because I'm sick," I said in disgust as if the words tasted like acid in my mouth. "Is it obvious?" I asked him, narrowing my eyes hopefully.

"Well…." Gon smiled weakly at me as he examined me a little bit more to prove himself wrong, though I could tell he was hiding the truth from me in an attempt not to disappoint me. "…Kinda."

I let my shoulders sag in despair. "Perfect."

Gon offered to carry the heavier bag as we walked to the familiar couch in the reception room to where Killua was sitting calmly with his sight focused on a bunch of files laying at the table in front of him. "_Such_ a hard worker," I teased him. He looked up at us when he noticed our presence.

"Hey."

I took my bag from Gon's hands and gave him an appreciative smile. "Thanks." I placed the bags on the floor next to Killua who observed them for a moment. I looked at him. "What?"

"Are you moving in?"

"Ha ha, no. The other bag is my laundry. The washing machine rebelled against me this morning," I answered.

"Oh."

I moved to sit next to him to check out the stacked files. "What are we supposed to do with those exactly?"

"We should organize them," Gon answered me.

I gave him horrified look. "You're kidding right?" I asked. Gon grinned again at my reaction. "Why do I feel like Kurapika's punishing us for what we did yesterday?"

"Actually," Killua began with a serious expression painted on his face. "The worst part is that we should make sure to arrange the guests according to their significance. This requires us to study the background of each guest individually."

"Interesting." I buried my face in my hands. "We are officially in hell. This can take hours." I picked up a file and started to examine it boringly.

"It will," Killua said with a slight smile.

"How can you be so calm about this?"

He grabbed the file between my hands and put it back on the table. "Step aside if you can't handle it. I will take care of the whole thing," he said slowly like I was mentally retarded or something. "And don't touch the files without asking me first."

I exhaled sharply, balling my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palms.

"Why are you being such a jerk?" I responded, my eyes flashing. Gon was watching us with amusement.

"I'm not. I spent three hours organizing these files and you're just going to ruin their order if you picked them up randomly."

I crossed my arms and shifted my weight to my left leg. "What makes you so sure that you're doing this properly in the first place?"

He looked at me. "Your point being?"

I held his gaze defiantly as I answered, "I mean you should let us check your work to see if you made any mistakes."

I could tell that Killua fought the urge to roll his eyes at me. "Relax and stay out of it," he muttered.

I learned something interesting about Killua. He hated to be told he was wrong. Now, everyone likes to be right; it's a natural thing. Even I would've loved to be right more than I usually was. Being right for me was about as important as having a nice car or big house or lots of money or a shiny award. Being right for Killua was about as important as his sweets, if not more oh, God forbid, more than his precious sweets!

"You're impossible. Why can't you just take in your consideration that you probably made a mistake? You may have dosed off thinking about something while you were working which allowed you to make this mistake." Geez I was such a pain. I bet that all what Killua wanted was to stab me to death with the pencil he had in his hand.

But to my surprise, he chuckled under his breath. "Yeah exactly. I was dosing off thinking about you," he replied, sarcasm oozing from him.

"W-what?"

Killua finally rolled his eyes. "What do you want? You wanna check what I've accomplished? Fine," he said as he placed a file in my lap. I hated that my face was still heating up thanks to what he said earlier. "Knock yourself out," he added.

I took a deep breath to steel my nerves. Well, more of a gulp than a deep breath. "But that's not what I meant," I argued again. I was literally throwing peanuts at a lion, but I didn't realize what I was doing until Killua shot me a deathly glare with his ferocious eyes that threatened to suck out my soul if I stared into them for too long. And all of a sudden, he turned to Gon for help.

"Gon, please make Yuki stop talking now," he said in almost a whine.

Gon blinked in embarrassment. "…How?"

"I don't know. Distract her with something." _Ugh, did he have to act like I wasn't in the room?_ "Just make sure she does not make eye contact with me for the rest of the day."

I admitted defeat with an exasperated sigh. "Okay! I'll just…get out of your hair," I said as I stood up to order something to drink. "Do yo want something from the cafeteria?" I asked them.

"Make sure you order something hot for your throat," Gon told me. "Mito-san says that drinking ginger with honey is an effective remedy for the flu."

"Yeah I'm not sure they have this here, Gon."

Killua was suddenly staring at me. "You're sick?" Listening to his question, I was dumbstruck by his interest in knowing my condition. I couldn't fathom if he was actually concerned or it was just curiosity. Wait why was I making such a big deal out of this? It was just a normal friendly question. Damn my over-thinking brain.

"Uh…I guess so." The response was dumb, I know. I had no control over my faculties.

He threw the pencil on the table and got up to stand exactly right in front me. "Lemme see," he demanded.

"Huh?" There was no blood left in my brain. He was just too close.

"Be quiet for a moment," he ordered. His hand snaked around my waist, gently pulling me closer to him, much closer than I had hoped. For a split second, I thought he was going to kiss me, but I brushed off the thought when his lips simply moved to touch my forehead, and my face ended up just near his neck. Warmth spread through my body, making it heavier and heavier. Forgetting about the pain in my head, I found myself taking in a deep breath of his scent. He smelled sweet; sugar and cinnamon.

My blood pumped a little faster against my will.

When he pulled away, I realized that my eyes were closed for no good reason. I peeled my face away from him and looked up. "You have a fever," he notified me, totally at ease with the situation.

I finally regained my ability to speak.

"I—what did you—_really_?" I stammered. I swear I could still feel the imprint of his hand when he released me.

Killua bit his lip to hold back a smile. "Yes." He glanced at Gon whose smile was as wide as he could make it. "Shut up," he ordered him.

Gon's smile turned into a giggle. "But I didn't say anything!"

"Just shut up."

* * *

_"Hello, brother."_

_The eight-year-old boy propped his eyelids open slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the mild illumination that was seeping into the dark room through a single hierarchical window at the top of the wall. It was designed to let a beam of light in, and not to permit prisoners to see out. The fierceness of the summer heat was oppressive enough to make the metal a bit softer and compressing, and to send anyone into a daze._

_Smoke._

_Smoke was smoothly traveling through the air ducts, making it difficult to breath without feeling like his lungs were restricted. Killua struggled to distinguish the man in front of him, whose face was only a few inches away, staring at him blankly with his unblinking intense black eyes._

_Killua's own eyes were heavy, and his visions were blurry but that was only because his eyes were half open and he was floating between consciousness and unconsciousness most of the time. There was nothing to look at anyway. "Illu–" He instantly realized he shouldn't be calling his older brother by his name. "Aniki?" he asked in a faint voice, uncomfortable with the close proximity between him and his brother. "Where am I?"_

_The long haired young man was on his feet now. "Home."_

_But it didn't feel like home. Killua couldn't remember how he ended up being in this room. He shifted his feet, a move made harder by the chains around his hands and feet. And even that slight move made his body flare with pain. He looked down at his feet, his eyes clouding with unreadable emotions, but he stayed quiet. After all, it was not the first time he woke up this way, and he perfectly knew that no matter how hard he screamed, there wouldn't be any response._

_And there would be no soothing promise._

_At least, he was bitterly pleased that he was sitting on a chair this time. It didn't matter how helpless he felt, but he was sure that this position was so much comfortable than what he was used to._

_He looked around him._

_Red._

_The color red was everywhere, crimson spatters on the once pristine walls, pools of dry blood on the floor, even graceful arcs of the color on the ceiling and some drops on the floor where it had dripped down. He followed the fresh scent of the blood only to find it coming out from a man with a familiar face. He was one of the butlers who managed to stay alive in their territory for a year. Right now, he was being punished for what it would be definitely beyond Killua's understanding. The butler was hanged from his hands for what looked like days._

_In the past, when Killua asked his family about the reason why they would torture the butlers after hiring them or why they would let him kill them so easily whenever they wanted, they simply responded with the same sentence._

_"Because traitors should be executed without delay."_

_Sometimes he wondered if they were really traitors. And other times he believed they were just sacrifices for the sake of his training._

_"Listen carefully." Illumi's cold voice brought him back to reality. He was walking in slow steps around the young butler who was half naked, and his breaths came in short, unhelpful gasps. He was obviously aware of the fact that his life was about to end in few minutes, or perhaps few seconds. "You are on a mission," Illumi continued._

_"I am? But I can't move," the eight-year-old boy wondered in confusion._

_"That's because you're not supposed to move. The only thing you can do, or should I say you shall do, is to keep your eyes open during this."_

_A little jolt of relief struck Killua's body like lightning. "Okay."_

_"But let me tell you something I think you'll be interested in," Illumi said._

_"What is it?" Killua's voice was exhausted as he tried to sound impassioned._

_"If you close your eyes, I'll have no choice but to punish you. And I believe you didn't enjoy the previous night with Milluki, am I wrong?" _

_There was one word that could describe Illumi: victimization._

_In fact, this word suited all the Zaoldyecks at some point, but Illumi's sort of victimization was at a special rate. Whether Killua responded to his desire or not, Illumi was going to do what was in his mind anyway. But the mind of the little boy was way too fragile to be aware of such a fact about his brother. Or maybe he just didn't care._

_"Now watch and learn."_

_Illumi started with the first stab in the young butler's body._

_Then the second._

_Followed by the third._

_Killua held on to his silence with great effort._

_A bewildering loud moan escaped the butler's throat, like a rabid animal. His mind was swirling and he was yelling out frequently in remorse. Illumi was being careless, as usual. With every stab of his knife, he covered himself with more blood. With every stab, Killua repressed anger. Every stab landed somewhere on the victim's stomach, forced out the blood from his mouth. And every stab, caused his blood to smear across Killua face._

_But Killua just didn't care.  
_

_Actually, he stopped caring about a lot of things. About how much he was hurt, how hungry or thirsty he was, what the time was, where he was, why he was here; those were all very insignificant now._

_Cold. Cold and sore. Those were the two most prominent things in Killua's mind at that moment; how cold he was and all those sore places on his body. Of course, he was cold simply because the place suddenly was freezing, and the soreness, well, that was no doubt because all of the chains and cuffs around his body which were rubbing against his half-healed wounds, which aggravated them and stopped them from healing up properly._

_Illumi went on viciously with the stabbing._

_All of a sudden, Killua couldn't seem to get enough air to his lungs; his breaths became short and quick. He realized he was having a panic attack, and as his lungs burned and begged for oxygen, his mind raced onwards, imagining all sorts of horrendous scenes from his past, each one worse than the last, as Illumi continued torturing the man without stabbing his heart. He would never kill him so soon. He was very careful about that. He just wanted him to break and became submissive._

_"Just kill him already!" Killua shouted._

_"No! Please stop! I didn't do anything! "The butler's voice cracked in agony as he asked for the non-existent mercy. "I'm begging. I'll do anything. Just let me go." The man was bluffing, obviously. Even if Illumi didn't kill him, soon enough he would bleed to death. Just like all the other Zaoldyeck sacrifices._

_Illumi grunted as he stabbed yet deeply again into the cold, wet, butchered body hanged before him. He wouldn't give the butler that satisfaction to die, no matter how hard he tried. The butler had always known that the Zaoldyecks were cruel, not to be trusted, but he had no idea just how twisted their minds could become. When it started to get overwhelming to Killua, he closed his eyes, refusing to watch anymore._

_"Open your eyes!" Illumi demanded roughly._

_Killua obeyed. "Please stop," he pleaded. "If you won't kill him, I'll do it." Illumi smirked and finally dropped the knife. He moved to undo the chains from around his younger brother's hands and feet._

_In a swift motion, the eight-year-old kid thrust his hand in the man's chest and got his hold on his heart. He growled as he snatched the heart quickly and threw it angrily at the wall._

_The screams stopped. And the man's body was forever lifeless._

_Illumi's eyes widened in amazement for the first time in his life when he witnessed what his very little brother had done. He cleared his throat before he spoke, "Good job."_

_After that, everything had been about pain. Time had stood still and lost its meaning. Time was no longer measured in seconds and minutes and hours, it was measured by the valleys and peaks of pain, how they would rise up and dwindle back down, then come back twofold. It seemed to be a rhythm almost. The pain would stab into him, ripping him apart and pulling him to the brink of unconsciousness, then it would recede, lulling him into a false sense of security until it would spring back like a striking predator. It was like fire, dancing along his nerves and tormenting his mind and always promising more to come. It would not let him rest, not even death could release him from his agony, because the pain would not let him die._

_"Do you know that you've turned eight today?" Illumi suddenly commented. "Happy birthday."_

_Eventually, Killua just stopped caring. He just cared about how tired he was. He hissed as his internal wounds burned, but the numbness soon chased the pain away. Very carefully, he lowered his head onto his claws and inhaled deeply._

_He felt like he was a hundred years old._


	10. Sweet

**I do not own Hunter X Hunter.**

* * *

_**10. Sweet**_

"_A-CHOO!_"

I had _such_ a lousy sneeze. It was not really like a like a squeaky mouse; it was the kind that, if I stood on top of the Alps or something, and I did it, would reduce the whole damn mountain to a pile of rubble and snow. It could've been my imagination, but I could hear it echo all across the room, the whole floor, the entire building, for Christ's sake, bouncing off the walls like jeers. But the good thing was that it caused all kinds of pressure to release from my body, but then that pressure had to quite forcefully stabilize again once the sneeze had ended.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"_Good God_, Killua! I'm just fine! Why you not believe me!" I answered rather loudly. My head dropped in my hands as my aching eyes scanned the print of the file lying open in front of me. I hardly had the energy to even keep my head up.

"I'm gonna nod and ignore your poor grammar," Killua said.

"Thank you," I muttered, rubbing my temples furiously. I felt another sneeze building irresistibly at the back of my nose and I had no time to reach for a tissue.

"_A-CHOO!_"

In a swift movement, Killua dropped the files that were in front of me on the ground and held my cup of jasmine tea up to protect it from any possible germ.

"Goddammit!" I hissed through gritted teeth.

"You're on _fire_!" Killua commented, placing the cup back on the table again.

"It feels like my head is about to split in two," I complained. "I need to go bang some holes in the wall. With my head."

"I don't think it'll help to ease your discomfort; if anything, it'll exacerbate it."

"That's right, Yuki," Gon seconded.

Uh, whatever. Banging on the wall would've been like morphine.

"Gimme the next file," I demanded as I fiercely slammed the file I had in my lap down on the table, practically making Killua jump out of his seat.

"What the hell was that for?" he asked me.

I flopped down on the table and hid my face in my arms. "Oh, nothing," I mumbled, blinking hard to douse the burning in my eyes. "It's just life. It kicks your ass up and down the long, winding road. And then you die. But I'm sure you already knew that." I didn't feel like saying more than that. Besides, I wasn't lying. Life did kick my ass, especially this day. What a shame that I couldn't kick back.

Killua blinked at me. "You're not hallucinating are you."

"No! I'm not!" I snapped at him.

"Yuki."

"What, Gon?"

"Please keep your voice down. Everyone is staring at us," Gon pleaded, mortified. I wasn't paying much attention to the number of glares I was receiving from around the room.

"Oh."

"Thank you," Gon said.

"God!" I began again with a piercing voice, looking at the heavy files we still had to study. "That's a lot to finish in one day! And I _need_ to sleep! Right now, I need sleep like a fat kid needs cake."

Killua face-palmed. I couldn't blame him really.

"We finished fifty-seven file! That's really something, Yuki! Cheer up!" Gon exclaimed.

Killua looked at him dryly. Bad sign. Bad sign indeed. Killua had several kinds of looks, and I'm unsure if I can give each look the decent description it deserves. This 'dry' look as I liked to call it held a hint of challenge. It was like he was indirectly saying 'Your eyes will be out of their sockets faster than a Ferrari off the grid if you don't stop talking right now.'

"When you are done celebrating, Gon, would you be so kind to finish the rest of the work?" Killua asked flatly.

_Poor Gon._

Gon groaned. "Killjoy."

"That's not right," I whined. "What Kurapika is doing, I mean. Why does everyone gotta pick on us rookies, all the time? Kurapika used to be a rookie too, once." An inexplicably devious smirk plucked at my lips. "I say we retaliate, somehow. Nothing too big and nasty, mind you, just something that will teach him a lesson. What do you say, buddies?"

"Er, Yuki, are you okay?" Gon looked honestly worried now.

In fact, I don't even know why I made a suggestion like that, at all, to be honest. You know how you can say things and mean it right when you say them, but then when the heat of the moment cools, you start wishing you hadn't said anything? I had a horrible habit of that. I think it was the flu talking this time.

I felt my face go blank, almost as blank as Killua's, but not really. Killua was the king of blank. "I dunno," I admitted. "Define 'okay.'"

"We'll finished the rest of the work. You should sleep," Killua told me. "I suggest you sleep by yourself before I lose what's left of my fragile control and knock you out."

Words failed to support me then. I didn't say anything, instead leaning my head back on the couch, waiting for sleep to over take me.

* * *

**Killua's PoV**

"Finally!"

I smiled at Gon. "Yeah, you can celebrate now."

"I can't believe it took us a straight six hours to get over with this job." Gon grunted with exertion as he stretched his body as long as it would go, making the most of his height. "To be honest, I'd rather go through your family's training than have this experience again. Who knew Kurapika's requirements could be more painful than the Zaoldyeck's?" Gon said mockingly.

"Uh, don't push it. And please keep quiet." I took a quick glance at the sleeping girl beside me to make sure Gon's aggrandizement was not loud enough to wake her up. She was splayed uncomfortably across the couch, with her neck flexed to the right. Her hair was fanned around her face and a few strands fluttered every time she took breath. She was clutching tightly at one of the files, like it was a pillow or a teddy bear.

"Oh, I almost forgot about her." Gon gave me an apologetic look. Then he said even softer, "Perhaps we should wake her up now."

Despite her unfortunate position, she was the picture of comfort. "No, let's leave her alone."

Finally, ever so slowly and silent, I extended my hand to brush off a few more raven curls which were delicately falling across her face. I was careful not to startle her because I knew if I woke her up right now, I might end up sprawled on the floor while she retreated to a corner.

"I seriously can't thank you enough." I whirled my head to see Kurapika approaching our spot. He noticed Yuki instantly and his features dramatically turned into a scowl. "Is she okay?" he asked.

"She's asleep," I answered.

"She's pretty sick too," Gon said.

"I see," Kurapika muttered. "Gon, would you please help me get these files to my office?"

"Sure."

"Killua, do you think you can carry Yuki to one of the empty rooms here. If you don't mind."

"Of course not. I will," I reassured him, knowing deeply in my heart that it was a bad idea.

"And by the way, feel free to pick any room you two want. You can stay here til the end of the auction," Kurapika said.

I exchanged a quick glance with Gon, before we both nodded in approval.

Gon carried a few files in his hand. He paused for a second to ask me, "Do you need any help with…that?" He gestured at Yuki.

"I guess not," I responded as I shifted my weight to my feet and examined Yuki's sleeping form for a while, unsure how to approach the situation. It seemed best if I carried her…bridal style. And I was worrying about clichés, when it was I who was about to make the biggest faux pas. Smirking slightly at the implication, I carefully hooked an arm behind her knees, using the other to cradle her head as I lifted her from the couch. Her fingers tightened in the fabric of my shirt, and she was humming to herself in a low tone.

I turned to Kurapika who was staring at me in amazement. "Where is that room?" I asked him firmly. There was a little tension between us since yesterday. Truth to be told, I kinda wanted to punch him. That paper work was hideous.

"It's beside my office. Two doors to the left," he answered. I nodded and walked passed him carefully. "Killua."

"Hmm?"

"Thank you," he told me. "I know it was a lot of work to do. And I can tell you're mad at me."

I tried to feign innocence. "What? No I'm not. It's totally okay," I said in a low voice, trying not to wake up the girl in my arms. And to my intense surprise, Kurapika seemed to buy it. I should get an Oscar for that.

I started to walk my way to the room in slow and dull steps. I glimpsed at Yuki who looked like she was having a pleasant dream where families still run small farms and cows graze peacefully in pastures. Wait…what?

_Damn, I do need some rest._

Sometimes it got hard to believe that I was the one who turned this girl to an orphan. I always avoided to think about it. Probably not the most mature response, I realize, but what else could I do, spend my whole life feeling guilty about it? I sure didn't feel good, though; I felt kind of fogged up, the way I felt when I thought I'd just heard something awful and didn't want to believe it.

Family. They used to drive me bonkers sometimes—okay, they used to drive me bonkers often. But they loved me, I suppose. And I'd much rather have people that drove me crazy on a regular basis than no one at all.

_You don't actually mean that_. No, I do. I don't know, I think I do. The concept of the lack thereof was alien to me, polar-opposite-side-of-the-galaxy kind of alien.

"Um Killua?" I flinched a little when Yuki's tired voice addressed me. _Dammit_.

"Yes?"

"Not that I minded, but why exactly are you carrying me?" The yawn at the end helped with her nonchalant tone.

"Erm…you fell asleep, so I took the liberty of moving you to a more comfortable sleeping area."

"Well thank you. That's pretty thoughtful," she whispered before smoothly closing her eyes.

"I can be thoughtful sometimes."

"You're comfortable," she murmured as she buried her face against my chest.

"If you find me comfortable, then perhaps retiring you to a real bed was actually a good idea. Your exhaustion is making you delusional."

She laughed weakly.

"Maybe," she admitted. "You know what? Sometimes I feel like I want to punch you."

My lips curled up into a tiny smile. "Go on, then. I won't stop you."

She slapped my chest playfully. "Don't tempt me," she said, laughing. "But sometimes you are nice. Like now." She sounded like a child, but the honesty was somehow refreshing.

"I am?"

"Yes. Really nice. And sweet. Like chocolates."

I chuckled. Her level of awareness had deteriorated to complete nonsense.

"I'll definitely take that as a compliment."

"You should." It came out as a tired sigh. I pushed the door to the bedroom open and gently deposited her onto the bed. She curled into a tight ball, her fists clenched, pressed against her heart. Then she let out another small sigh. "Good night, Killua. I'll continue my battles with you tomorrow."

"Fair enough," I answered. "Because our conversation is becoming completely nonsensical." She was going to protest, but another yawn stopped her. I smiled, and before I knew it, I was unwrapping the blanket to carefully tuck it over her like a cape, hands trembling with the fear of accidentally brushing against her and waking her up again. I winced with every quiet rustle the blanket made as I spread it over her.

"Good night."


	11. Little Moments

**I do not own Hunter X Hunter.**

* * *

_**11. Little Moments  
**_

The annual auction of York Shin was one of the biggest social events of the year. This year was special, because the auction would last a month instead of a week. The first week would be like every year, while the last three weeks would be where the discreet auction began. I say discreet because it'd be one of the black market and therefore an illegal auction, the wealthiest mobster families in the country would come from everywhere in attempts to win what were secretly considered the greatest treasures of all time. Greatest and most dangerous.

Our job was only disguised under the label of "protecting the auction", but that wasn't it. Our job was to protect the auction to make sure the treasure Neon Nostrad wanted remained safe and dandy. Light Nostrad cared about two things: power and his daughter (who granted him power). Even after she lost her psychic fortune-telling ability five years ago, her father never lost hope that she could regain it any time soon through some magical process. Hope was strong, and as long as Nostrad had it, his daughter would be pampered within an inch of her life.

After I made sure the requested items of Miss Neon were in possession of her father's money, exactly as described, sent and delivered in good shape at the Nostrad mansion, I went upstairs to a quieter VIP bar so I could get me a drink and chill.

With half-lidded eyes, I leaned against a wall with my arm wrapped around me and a drink in my hand, watching the spacious room before my eyes.

Anyone who was anyone in York Shin was here tonight. Filthy rich people swayed all around me, laughing and bragging. Venetian crystal chandeliers, velvet carpets, dancing, and champagne. Men with their cigars, men with their trophy wives, and men with their arm candies, A.K.A, mistresses.

"You're in the mood," Marcus said, appearing next to me. He was my date for tonight. I'd asked him to be here since he seemed stressed at work and in need for a drink. Or ten. He hardly left the bar.

Marcus was my anchor. He was nineteen, good-looking, and smart. We were more than friends, but I didn't view him as a sibling. I loved him, but I was never in love with him. He wasn't my brother, he was my _bro_. We'd been bros since we were kids and although we hardly saw each other because I was almost never stable in one city, we'd maintained good contact.

"It's just…" I sighed. "This is not what I imagined the job to be like. I have nothing to do but wait for something interesting to happen. And it sucks."

Those in my field, blacklist hunters, got hired for all sorts of reasons, by all sorts of people. Most of the times, I was paid to take out a criminal the police had a tough time spotting. I liked doing it. The past three years were a blast.

I'd always been my own person. Taking care of myself was my specialty. Taking care of another person, that I wasn't very fond of. And so my master challenged me to do it. He knew I'd do it, he knew I _could_ do it, but he set me up for it anyway. And God knows, I loved challenges more than I loved food.

Okay, that's a lie. Nothing beat food.

Back to the point, I'd caught some criminals here and there in the olden days. Some were worth the thrill and some were not. At least, _there was a thrill_. That was all that mattered.

This job, however, here in the auction, seemed to have no thrill whatsoever, partly because I knew for sure than no one cared to harm Nostrad's little girl anymore. Why would they? Maybe when she was useful again, they would. And no one cared to steal the auction since the falling-out of the Spiders five years ago. If they decided to pay a visit, it'd be highly unlikely.

Sometimes, I'd wished I could go to high school like normal soon-to-be sixteen kid. Sometimes I wished I wasn't sleep-deprived, or had a body that wasn't always wrecked with blemishes and bruises, or had a skin that wasn't wiry and rock-hard from years of being on the run. That bit of craziness was cured when my master explained to me how monotonous the life of average kids were. I'd take being a hunter over being a normal teenage girl any day. If I had a problem, I'd destroy it or run away from it. If a teenager had a problem, they had to work through it. Yep, that sucks.

Which was why I wasn't very job-friendly with being a bodyguard in this place. Constantly waiting for something to happen and jumping in the face of danger to save someone I didn't care about didn't sound very appealing. It sounded as tedious and monotonous as high school life.

But I had to survive it to prove a point.

"You need a friend." Marcus gulped the rest of his whiskey and added, "Or better yet, a friend with benefit."

"Nop." I drank my cocktail.

Marcus gave me a pointy glare. "You're nearly sixteen, not sixty. In other countries, girls your age already have a fulfilled marriage. Others are taking care of babies."

"I don't wanna take of a baby." The thought was horrifying and shudder-inducing.

"I'm not saying go get knocked-up. I'm saying you have to start acting your age. Start acting like a teen. You're supposed to just say 'what the fuck' every now and then and not worry about the consequences." He held his finger up to interrupt me. "And I know, I know, you do that all the time. But you do it in your job. Not in your social life. You gotta meet new people. Make mistakes. Learn from them. Know how people are. I know you love and respect your master so much, but you don't wanna end up like him, do you?"

Marcus had a point. I had zero social skills, but that wasn't because I wanted to. It was because I had no time to mingle with kids my age. One-eyed, nasty-breath criminals? Those were the people I mostly socialized with.

"I'm not asking you to walk down the aisle with a guy and start squeezing out loud chubby babies. Just have some fun." He threw his arm over my shoulders. "Find someone you enjoy and keep them around. Let someone look after you a bit. It's not going to kill you."

I shook my head and laughed. "Marcus, I can't promise to overcome my overwhelming amount of awkward overnight, but I promise I'll try, okay?"

"Come on, you're gorgeous. Look at you, wearing a LBD like a girl. Finally," he cheered and I rolled my eyes. "It's nice to drop the 'tough girl' mask every now and then and stop wasting the best years of your life. You seriously need to blow off some steam — and maybe kiss some boy."

There in the crowd, I spotted someone I knew and wished I didn't—Killua.

As I stared at him, he looked up suddenly and his eyes found me. The corner of his mouth lifted a fraction, and for a moment, I thought he was going to greet me with a smile, one of his salacious, you-are-an-open-book-to-me smiles. But then his eyes traveled to Marcus, and within a second, he looked away, like he didn't see me at all.

That was more like the Killua I knew and wanted to hit.

"I don't need complications."

"It doesn't have to be complicated," Marcus argued. "I didn't say have a major crush on someone or fall in love. I didn't say love, I said _care_. You've been leading five years without that. No bestfriends, no allies, no partners-in-crime. Everyone has at least one of those. You need someone to care about you. Someone to make you coffee in the morning just the way you like it. Someone who knows your favorite pie and makes sure you have it for breakfast. Someone to watch zombie movies with you. You know, just someone who knows you and wants to see you smile."

I smiled then and leaned my head against his shoulder. "Damn. Always knew alcohol makes you sentimental."

He laughed, rubbing my arm. "Too bad we're not attracted to each other."

"Yeah. We'd be perfect."

He pulled back. "Alright, I gotta bail. If I stay any longer, I'll end up drinking more and I have to drive. Think about what I said."

With a kiss on my cheek and a brief hug, we said goodbyes and I was alone again.

As I was scanning the crowd and contemplating my life, there from across the room, I saw Killua again. He was leaning into the bar with a tumbler glass in his hand and typing into the touchscreen of his phone with the other. He was loitering, quite suspiciously all alone.

Dammit. I was kind of wishing he was swallowed up into the ground._  
_

An inner instinctual urging cautioned me to avoid getting his attention, so I tucked myself in the corner behind a circle of men in tuxedos. But I could still see him clearly from my vantage point, straight and so tall, suited up in his usual black. Dressed for the occasion, he was wearing a suit this time, dress pants hugging his long legs, a dress shirt that was open at the collar, and no tie. He looked like a long, lean Lothario.

I tried not to let my brain be dazzled by how irritatingly handsome he looked. The Devil doesn't necessarily have horns and carry pitchforks. The Devil could be very beautiful. He was the kind of teenage guy with the power and confidence that seemed perfect in every way. The kind of guys schoolgirls woke up and went to school for in the morning. The kind of guys that hit women of all ages right between the eyes every time they saw him and stirred up their fantasies.

I half-expected the women in the room to be lured enough by his devil charm to the point of throwing themselves onto his body—his ripped, seemingly diamond-hard body—just because of the provocatively mysterious aura he was radiating.

My musings were rudely interrupted as my eyes widened when a beauteous brunette with a model-like body came out of nowhere and threw herself at him for real—_quite literally_. She crushed her sensually slender body to his and reached up to place her arms around his shoulders and just…and just licked his ear! There, in a crowd full of people.

_He has a girlfriend? _

_Of course he does._

Though what was baffling, was that Killua seemed pretty unaffected by her enthusiastic greeting. He didn't hug her back, not even with one arm, he all but raised his glass up out of reach to protect his drink from spilling over. He released her and she skidded away, giggly, as he watched her walk away.

I felt my face crumble incredulously. Killua was casually sipping his drink again, then whistling, as if nothing had happened at all. But before my thoughts could waver, another (yes, another) voluptuous woman in a tissue-like dress emerged herself out of a crowd and went to devour him.

_Okay, WTF? He has two girlfriends?_

He glanced at her, albeit nonchalantly, but before he could say anything, she placed a searing kiss onto his smirking lips. He stood there, unmoving, letting her kiss him just for a second before he gently pushed her away. He didn't look amused, his brow furrowing disapprovingly at her. He clearly had a rule against kissing in public and she clearly pretended she didn't care about it.

That look of his made her mock-pout and run her hand down his chest, saying something I didn't hear but assumed was an apology, because Killua stopped scowling. His eyes were looking away at the crowd when the woman slid two fingers through the buttons the of his shirt and lightly caressed his stomach. Again, he appeared less than unaffected. He tilted her chin upwards with his middle finger and muttered something, to which she nodded, releasing him.

Just as he was about to take a sip from his drink, another young woman was showering him with love.

Oh my God—again? Who the hell was this guy? Was he for real? He was no more than a seventeen-year old teenager, yet he had his own harem? A harem of women of who looked older than him? He was like a Casanova. A teenage Don Juan. A snake charmer. A real lady killer. He was like a charming Romeo to them, and he wasn't even trying to be.

The new lady wasn't touchy like the others. She kept her distance, as if by command, as if he silently ordered her to. She still trailed a hand down his biceps, puppy-eying him. He chuckled, low and deep, his eyes flared bright with the same look he'd given Girl #1. I wouldn't be surprised if his eyes flashed like a real demon's. He pushed off the bar for the first time since I'd laid my eyes at him and stood straighter. Leaning in towards the girl in front of him until his face was half obscured from me, he whispered something in her ear.

Her face fell and for a second, she looked like she was holding back her tears. Killua pulled back, an apologetic smirk on his face. The girl nodded mournfully, disappearing into the crowd like a sad ghost, and I knew without a shadow of doubt, that he just broke her heart right there.

Almost instantly after that girl left, I watched the smirk leave his lips as he exhaled. It was the exhale of a little boy who was forced to play with someone they disliked but had to do it anyway. The mask of the supernatural seducer slipped off his face to reveal a withering, weary-looking guy.

He was so strange.

His eyes swept across the room and passed right over me. I was too lost in my own head and didn't pay attention that the group I was hiding behind was long gone. Crap. Damn. Fuck. All I could do was freeze and stare wide-eyed at him.

_Please don't see me_, I prayed. _Please don't see me, please don't see_—

Too late. He caught unfortunately _un_-invisible me with his gaze, eyes bright and smile widening.

_Son of a bad-luck bitch._

Cocking an eyebrow, he raised his glass at me and winked. Cheeky bastard.

With a nod, I saluted him back and gulped down my own drink.

He was standing across the room, across from me. Suddenly, right the next second, I felt a cool breeze and he'd materialized himself next to me.

I flinched, looking up at his smirking face and jumping slightly. "Stop doing that," I scolded.

"Do what?" he replied, amused.

"Appearing out of nowhere. Trying to rattle or scare me."

His smirk morphed into a genuine smile. "If I wanted to scare you, Yuki, I would be more creative than that."

I frowned at him, wary by the casualness with which he'd made the statement and the rueful amusement in his voice that told me he wasn't entirely kidding. I looked away at the crowd around us in an attempt to ignore him, my heart racing. His presence was like a potent force. Ignoring it was ridiculous, as well as impossible.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice flat and bone-dry, "I thought you weren't coming."

"Well, I heard the food is great so I couldn't stay away," he answered, holding my gaze. He was full of it. God knows what sort of scheme he was planning. "So I dressed up for it. Do you like?"

I stared at him, like a moron. "Uh, what?"

He wanted to smile, but he stopped himself. "Do you like the suit?"

My gaze slid over him. "Umm, you look…" I paused. _Devastatingly handsome. Savagely gorgeous. Downright yummy…_In the end, I went with the lame, "I like the way you look."

"Ooh, something you like about me." His brow arched. "Another one of those girls with a fetish for suits?"

I arched my own brow in challenge. "And if I said I liked the V-neck black T-shirts on you more?"

He leaned closer to my face, so close I nearly gasped. "I'll buy a dozen and wear them every damn day."

I swallowed. _Okay, what is he doing? Flirting with me or outwitting me? How do I know? _

_Damn him._

"So, tell me," he said, thankfully changing the subject. He moved to lean right next to me on the wall, his shoulder nearly brushing mine. "How did you sleep last night?"

"Oh!" I burst, sarcasm tinging my voice as I turned to him with grin. "I know where this is going. You're asking me how I slept last night to remind me of how chavarious _you_ were for carrying me into bed. And so right now, I'm supposed to fall for your charm and act like one of your brunette bimbos who're after your looks and smarts, and you can just be yourself—the arrogant playboy with his new arm candy. Let's role-play that!"

His eyes widened and looked down at the hand I reached to stroke his pristine-white shirt. I tried to ignore how hard his chest was under my palm and focused on rubbing it in the same flirtatious way his harem did.

"You can just look bored while I giggle and do my best dumb cheerleader flirting and coo about how amazing you are." I retreated my hand and let my fake smile drop, replacing it with a glare. "Yeah, I'm not doing that. You can stop trying to turn me into one of your girls. I'm too fucked-up in the head for that."

He blinked at me, before his own smile was back.

"Maybe that's the remarkable thing about you." His eyes were doing that annoyingly intense thing again and making me feel like the air was too thick to breathe. "I actually just noticed another remarkable thing about you."

My eyebrow rose. "And what might that be?"

Reaching down, he took my hand, pushing our palms together and aligning our fingers. A gasp escaped me, partly because that was normally the reaction you get when an attractive guy makes physical contact with you, but mostly because his touch was pure electric.

"You have freakishly tiny baby-hands," he said with a barely-repressed smirk.

I felt myself getting mad and cursed myself for it. I had no idea how, but he always seemed to get the exact response he wanted to get from me. It was a rare and irritating talent.

"I do _not_ have baby-hands."

"Yeah, you do. Look at them," he said and I looked at our hands pressed against each other. His fingers were so much longer than mine, his hand twice as large. I was pretty sure if he picked his nose with those suckers, he would give himself a lobotomy. "They are like a child's doll's hands."

"The only thing that proves is that your hands are ridiculously giant," I grumbled.

"Yuki, I'm a six feet young man who wears a size-twelve shoe. My hands are normal-sized. You have average height—five-foot-five, right?—and yet your hands are the size of a chestnut. You can't tell me you don't find that bizarre."

I snatched my hand away and glared at him again. His smirk was fully out of its cage now and roaming freely about his face.

"Do you want to know what that means?"

I looked away at the party. "No."

"Okay, I'll tell you." He brushed his shoulders against mine, deliberately this time, to emphasize his presence next to me. "It means you have a small heart, since the common reference is that your heart is the size of your fist."

I pretended to be impressed and did my best sarcastic clapping. "_See_, I'm the emotional equivalent of a ticking time-bomb. Run while you can."

"Haven't I told you," he replied huskily, "I enjoy things that explode."

"Except when they're yours," I shot back. "When they're your landmines, you keep them safe and sound."

He narrowed his eyes, playfully. "What's wrong with a man wanting to keep his secrets?"

"I'm not saying you can't. I'm saying you should keep them away from me. You know what, why don't you keep _you_ away from? That'd be a better blast," I said, grumpily. "Go back to your Girlfriend #2 and let her give you another tonsillectomy with her tongue."

His eyebrows popped up for a few seconds, shocked and confused, then to my surprise, he started laughing. "Jeez, no. I'm single. Free as a bird. That was… an old company."

I didn't like that I liked the sound of that.

"I don't have a girlfriend, Suki, so you can rest easy. No need to be jealous."

"First of all, say Suki one more time and I'll make sure you can _never_ have a girlfriend. And I'm not jealous. I'm just glad you're not inflicting your toxic personality on some poor member of the opposite sex."

He frowned, and I got the impression I'd said the wrong thing.

Huh. He was hurt, so he _did_ have a heart. Oh, the wonders of the world.

All of a sudden, two teenage boys approached us. They seemed to be the same age as Killua, but they were slightly shorter than he was. Judging from their expensive-looking tuxedos, I'd assumed they were the sons of our wealthy auctioners. One of them looked ridiculous with his over-gelled hair and the other looked like a Butthead with hair that mildly resembled an styled afro.

"How do you do that?" one of them straight-out asked Killua, no hellos, no formalities, no introduction. "How did you get all these ladies smiling at you like the Cheshire Cat?"

Killua raised an eyebrow. I'd noted the change in him when the boys surrounded us. He'd transformed from the teasingly playful guy who was with me to a cold, dry person. His irises chilled to an icy green and his wicked mouth lost any hint of curve. I could feel the dangerous don't-touch vibe emanating from him, enclosing me, too. I felt scared and safe both at the same time.

"We'd like to know how you nailed three of the prettiest girls at this party," the boy explained eagerly. His friend nodded in approval. "What's your secret? Do you have, like, verbal magic?"

"Or as they say, the gift of the gab?" the other added.

"Yeah! A word you use to seduce the birds out of the trees? 'Cause we'd like to know that in order to have that, too. You know… we mean sex, man. You know… Sex!" he declared excitedly like the sex-crazed teenager he was, shooting a nod to his friend who responded with an impish grin.

"I'm familiar with the concept," Killua said, his tone clipped with disdain. He looked like someone who'd stepped on gum—disgusted and irritated but never losing his cool disinterest.

The afro boy pressed. "So! Spit it out, man. What's your master weapon?"

Killua crossed his arms and didn't say anything for a few moments, merely contemplating the morons in front of us. His smirk was only slightly twirling the side of his lips as he said, "A Chinese philosopher called Mencius once said, 'There is no greater delight than to be conscious of sincerity on self-examination.'"

The boys stared at him, mystified, then at each other, then back at him. "What does that mean?"

Killua smiled sublimely, like the cat toying with two idiotic canaries. "Just think about it."

The boys paused thoughtfully, before they walked away, still immensely confused.

I turned to Killua. "What _does_ that mean?"

He smirked. "Nothing," he answered, shrugging. "It's in no way connected to the topic of sex. But they're going to spend an inordinate amount of time trying to dissect it and I will be free."

I couldn't resist the small smile that was tugging at my lips. See this was why he annoyed me. He could be the most annoying ass on the planet one minute, and then suddenly and without warning, he did _that _— turned all warmly playful, fun, and smart.

I tried to smother my grin as I asked, "Are you always going around being an evil mastermind?"

"Evil?" he echoed, his expression innocent. "Me? Noooo."

_Damn you, endearing-Killua, stop making me like you._

He looked me in the face. "Are you still sick? You look…flushed."

"Menopause. Hot flashes."

"Aren't you a little too young for that?"

"You'd think so, huh? Being a girl sucks."

"Except for that part where you get to fantasize about me," he said, elbowing me lightly on my arm. "That must be pretty cool."

I could feel my face drop. "Cocky, much?"

He grinned. "I'm just a realist."

"You do realize saying that makes you sound even cockier, right? It's impressive how you can hold up that giant, swollen head of yours."

"Stop talking dirty to me, Yuki, you're getting me hot."

Once he said that, he froze, as if he didn't mean for these words to come out while talking to me. It's not that he didn't look like a pervert, he did, it was just he didn't feel comfortable being a pervert with me. Something shifted in the air and now we both flushed.

"You're scowling at me," he observed.

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Does menopause make you a scowler too?"

"Yes. And psychotic. Watch your step."

"Trying to. Not easy with a scowling, menopausal psycho."

I scowled at him for real.

He laughed, and my scowl deepened, because laughing was on the list of things he was not allowed to do when I was trying to ignore his attractiveness. That damned sultry chuckling sound added to his good looks was deadly.

"Hmmm," he said, laying his forearm on my shoulder with a devilish smirk, as if we were bros already. He cocked his head to the side as he weighed me, assessing me too closely with that slow-burn stare of his. "I like you. You make me laugh. I like fiesty little girls with sharp tongues and smart minds."

I looked anywhere away from him with a shrug. "Stop. I might think you want to be my friend."

He looked at me very seriously for a moment, blinking those crazy-pretty eyes and stupidly long lashes. He seemed confused. "Do you want to be my friend?"

I slid his arm off my shoulder. "Why? To be your wingman when you're on the prowl?"

Killua held my gaze for a long moment, before he smiled that smile of his, the one that said, 'You don't know me and unless I want you to, you never will.'

Gently snatching my glass out of my hand, he said, "I'll get you another drink."

* * *

**Killua's POV**

It was getting late. Really late.

Yuki, Gon and I sat on a table and waited for the place to evacuate.

We didn't witness any suspicious conduct at all. Everything went smoothly and easily without a hitch and that was a bliss. In a way, this disturbed me. It was like the lull before the storm. I was sensing the pent up aggression and energy radiating off me like I was about to snap if I didn't get rid of it quick. That was how I always felt, like I was about to explode with everything I'd had to hold inside of me all the time just trying to get to that point, to that time, so I could be there right then to play the game of my life and knock anyone who got in my way on their ass.

But that was in the past.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and checked the caller.

"One of your booty-calls?" Yuki asked, the leer evident in her voice.

I forced a smile. "You think they're privileged enough to have my real number?"

She rolled her eyes and I smiled for real.

"I'll be right back," I announced as I left the table.

I picked a private spot to take the call. I wanted to find a place with no interruption because I could feel my sixth sense tingling in my skin like a bell, or better yet a shriek of warning, telling me that something wasn't right.

"Hello?" There was a brief dead silence on the other line, and I felt something churn in my stomach. "_Hello?_" I repeated more firmly.

"Long time no talk, brother."

I froze. The whole world around me stood still and I desperately tried to find my voice which I seemed to misplace. I needed the electrical shocks to regulate my highly erratic heartbeat. How much of a coincidence was it that he was calling on this night in particular?

"What? Now you can't recognize my voice? Shame."

Taking a slow deep breathe, I asked dryly, "What is it that you want?"

Another dead silence.

"Apparently you're not happy to hear from me," Illumi mused.

"Well I guess old habits don't die. What do you want?"

"Tough. Like always. I can't say I'm impressed." Much to my irritation, there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Don't make me ask again," I kept my tone dry, even though I was impatient and slightly anxious. "It's not like you're calling to check on my well-being. That's not very Zaoldyeck-ish, isn't it."

"I want you to help me with something."

"You? You want help? My help?" I scoffed bitterly. "You've got to be kidding me. Why would I do that?"

"Let's say you get to benefit from this. Everyhing has a price, you know."

Another dead silence.

"Your silence sends a message that you agree, or at the least you don't object, so I'll continue. I heard that you're working with that Kuruta friend of yours am I wrong?"

I made a face. "Are you stalking me again?"

"Coincidental. I'm merely interested in a special guest in the auction."

"As a target?"

"Of course."

"Who is he?"

"His name is Kenji Aizawa. Do you know him?"

_Of course. It's getting clearer now.  
_

"Yes, I know him. You killed his business partner four months ago in Akaso. It was in the news."

"I've done a lot in four months, Kil. I'm a very busy man."

That was when I started to lose my cool. From childhood, when my anger was upon me I hid it, denied it, tried to shut it out until it exploded. And I never thought it would explode until it did. No matter how many times I lost control, I persisted in thinking my control would be absolute, that this time would be different. I hated how simply he could lead me to the place where only darkness reigns.

"You are the one who blackmailed Aizawa."

He hummed an assent.

It felt as though something heavy, like a boulder or a lifetime's worth of homework, had been placed on my shoulders, the feeling that I could have somehow prevented this. How exactly, I wasn't sure, but that didn't keep me from feeling the way I did, like I could have stopped it.

It was not hard for me to predict what was going on Illumi's mind. "Let me guess, you want me to distract Kurapika and the other bodyguards in order to permit you time to abduct Aizawa, because you know how deeply they trust me."

"Uh-huh."

"You're bluffing."

No matter what, his request was out of the question. But nonetheless, this was absurd. Illumi was much smarter to assume that I might betray my friends for personal gain or profit. And most importantly, to believe that I might betray the promise I made to myself long time ago about not getting involved with the Zaoldyecks missions. This felt wrong. He was up to something.

"As I said. You won't do it for free."

My hand clenched the phone with unnecessary ferocity as I affirmed, "You can offer me nothing that I need."

"What about Ging Freecs?"

My eyes closed irritably I couldn't repress the shiver that went down my spine. Now he was just playing dirty. My worst triggers came to life in front of my eyes, all blending together to create the perfect form of irritation.

"What do you mean?"

Illumi could sense the obvious change in my voice, because his had changed too; grew slower, more superior. "I have an incredibly useful piece of information regarding this man. And I truly believe you and your friend may find it interesting."

Pity was all I could hear in his tone. Typical. He always knew how to hit all the right spots. My throat constricted as in my mind I called him all the dirtiest names I knew.


	12. Interlude

_**12. Interlude**_

"Killua!" Gon shouted, pleased to see Killua approaching our table again after his 'phone call.' "Where have you been?"

Killua forced a weak smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes before he replied, "I was on the phone." He turned serious again as he frantically looked around for his jacket. It was draped over the back of Gon's chair. "I'm going to my room."

Something was different about him. It was very easy to tell. His eyes were shielded, instead of his usual impassive mask that seemed broken.

"I'm going with you," Gon said.

"Me, too," I decided, rising from my seat. "Not with you though. To my room."

"Of course," Leorio muttered, a sly, alarming smile on his face.

Killua raised his hand to his neck and loosened his tie to breathe more comfortably.

"Something wrong?" I asked him, trying to sound nonchalant.

"No. Everything's just perfectly fine."

We wished Leorio a good night and made our way to our rooms. Gon told me about his famous father whom he seemed to have a deadly-serious, and deadly cat-and-mouse chase with.

Killua was not paying us much attention. Despite his blank expression which got to me, he seemed like he was piling the biggest and most chaotic troubles on his shoulders.

I wanted to ask him about the person who had called him. It really was not something to do with my curiosity, even though it was somehow related, but I was slightly concerned, because he had never been this distracted. Gon elbowed him several times to join our little conversation, asking him random questions, but Killua kept his answers as short as possible.

Gon smiled at me when we reached my room. "Good night, Yuki."

"Good night, guys."

But before I finished saying it, Killua was already walking.

* * *

Tossing and tumbling.

That was exactly how I spent my night. Ironically, I never really experienced sleeping troubles in my whole unfortunate life. In spite of the fact that my nights were usually accompanied by nightmares, I never found it hard to fall asleep. But this night I nearly memorized how many cracks were on the ceiling because of the hideous moments I spent staring at it.

After punching my pillow in frustration, I turned on the bedside lamp and sat up wide awake as my eyes adjusted to the light and tried to think of something to distract myself with since obviously slumber wasn't coming any time soon.

I stood up and pushed a handful of hair off of my face. I picked up my red sweater that was hanging on my bedpost and slipped my arms into the sleeves. Leaving those four walls was my only way to stay sane at the moment.

The hallway was too dark.

I gasped in shock when a hand touched my shoulder. In a reflex, I instantly backed away.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

I visibly relaxed when I realized it was Killua.

I groaned. "Man, you scared me."

"Why are you not sleeping?"

"Why are _you_ not sleeping? And what are you doing near my room?" I felt my eyes go wide. "Hold on, what were you doing in the hallway by this time—oh my God!" I cried, throwing my hands over my mouth. "You were coming to my room?"

Killua rolled his eyes with such emphasis that he felt the need to roll his head around at the same time. "Of course not."

"Oh god. You don't stalk me, do you? Like… watch me sleep or something freaky like that?"

He sighed—this time a true sigh. He suddenly seemed weary. If I didn't know better, I would have guessed that he was admitting defeat. But somehow, I knew he wouldn't give up his power so easily. Still, he seemed off; that phone call really seemed to change him.

"Are we going to pretend that nothing happened tonight?" I crossed my arms. "Who is that man that came to see Kurapika before the auction and why did you and Gon look like you were traumatized when you saw him?"

Right before the auction began, a tall man requested to see Kurapika, _privately_. He was wearing a suit, like everybody in the auction, but it was the fact that his tie that had suit symbols and his face that was applied with paint that made him stand out. But it wasn't only that. It wasn't only one thing. Or ten things. It was everything about him. His smirk was superior in its amusement, and menacingly knowing, as if he was already two steps ahead of you and he knew it. People stepped away from him as he sauntered through the building's lobby. It was fear or reverence, but something about this man caused them to give him ample space. All I knew was that his name was Hisoka.

Killua started walking back to his room with me on his heels. "He's one of our…shenanigans. The type that you don't really hate, but you also don't wish to see again? That type is Hisoka's."

"And he's after Kurapika becauuuse…?"

"No idea. When I heard footsteps in the hallway, I thought it was Kurapika coming to tell us what Hisoka wanted. He has locked himself in his room since the end of the auction."

I pulled my sweater closer to my body followed him to his room. "That doesn't sound like something he'd do." Killua just shrugged, and I poked him insistently. "There's something you're not telling me. What is it?"

"I don't know, okay? Stop the inquisition." He elbowed me in the elbow, making me recoil. "Hisoka likes to push people's buttons. It amuses him. He finds pleasure in it—"

"A person who annoys people for his own pleasure. Hmmm, why does that sound extraordinary familiar?"

Killua gave me a pointed glare. "_Anyway_, my guess is that Hisoka has probably found a way to piss Kurapika off and made it look like a casual comment or a joke. Like maybe he bought him the Spiderman's movies. Or gave him a Spider pet. Stuff like that."

My head spun. "Okay, um, what?"

"He hates the Spiders. With a capital 'S'." As we entered his room, Killua continued, "Wipe-them-out-of-the-face-of-earth kind of hate. It's a long story about murder and revenge and a tribe's pride. Do you like scary stories?"

I shrugged and shook my head. "No. And I don't know why I followed you here." I glanced at one of the beds, where Gon was snoring lightly, and added in a whisper, "Anyway, we'll talk tomorrow."

"Don't go," Killua said, seemingly without thinking, because his eyes went slightly wide afterward, as if his brain had caught up.

I remained as still as a statue. "What?"

"Uhh…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, you could always stay and talk to me for a while… about stuff."

"You want me to stay and talk about _stuff_?"

"Yeah. Stuff."

"Fine," I agreed, since I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. Moving to the window sill, I stretched out comfortably. "Make me some tea and—" I patted the place beside me "—let's talk about stuff."

* * *

When he reappeared from the small kitchen in the room, Killua murmured, "Honey?"

I looked up at him, confusion written all over my face. "Huh?"

The corners of his mouth turned up a little bit. "For your tea. Do you want honey?" he explained.

"Oh." _Goddamn._ I reddened and gripped more tightly on the mug in my lap. "No, thank you."

For a few moments, we sat in awkward silence. I could hear the faint whine of the heating system as we both stared at the wall. I wondered if I should complete the picture by making cricket chirping noises.

Luckily, Killua made use of his impeccable social skills before we waded too deeply into awkwardness. "What sort of stuff would you like to talk about?" He smiled sarcastically. "Our likes and dislikes, maybe? I like long walks on the beach, especially after there's been a shipwreck."

I turned to him and folded my legs under me on the sill. "You know, I don't believe you're nearly as insensitive as you act. I think you're just covering up your unhappiness."

He frowned and quickly removed his eyes from mine. "I don't think I got to tell you my dislikes, right? I dislike being analyzed by stubborn women."

"And I dislike being harassed by arrogant assholes."

A devious smile cut across his face at the word. He copied my pose by moving to sit cross-legged as well. "What is it that you _do_ like, Yuki?"

I was caught off-guard by his question, and it took my brain a while to even process what he had asked. It seemed too straightforward for his style, so I spent a moment in circumspection, searching for ways he meant to mock me. When I found none, I folded my arms and said, "My work."

"But you said it's boring."

"Hold up, now," I said. "Don't be hypocritical. I doubt there's much you enjoy beyond your own 'work'."

"I'd accuse you of dodging my question, but it's quite obvious that you're just eager to talk about me." He grinned, giving me a flash of white teeth. "Who wouldn't be? I'm pretty cool. Shall we discuss the natural beauty of my hair?"

"Fine," I muttered. "I started liking my work tonight. I hate to admit it to myself, but I'm secretly a workaholic. There you go. I said it. Happy?"

Something eerily similar to concern flickered in his eyes as he watched me. "I wasn't looking for a self-diagnosis. I just wanted to know what you do for fun."

"Why?"

"I don't know!" he exclaimed. "You're here to talk about stuff! That's stuff, right? Or is your definition of stuff different? It's not a euphemism for politics, is it? I hate talking about politics."

"No, I don't want to talk about politics. But I don't want to talk about myself either."

He leaned back against the window's frame and looked at the beautiful park down the window. "Oh, come on. I may have just met you, but no boring workaholic develops a personality as fiery as yours. I bet you secretly tame lions on the weekend."

I pretended to look out the window. I wasn't sure if he meant to make me self-conscious about the structure of my life, but he was doing a pretty good job in any case. "No," I replied softly. "I'm pretty uninteresting beyond my research."

Killua paused his scrutiny of the park in order to examine me instead. For a moment, he narrowed his eyes, as if searching my face for a hidden puzzle piece. Seemingly drawing a blank, he turned back to look at the trees. "So, the only thing I've learned about you so far is that you have a dead family and that you hate me." His voice was blunt, and he sounded so callous, but he was humorlessly smiling to himself and it looked almost… content.

I bit my lip and tipped my head back to restrain any sign of upset. "No, I hate you because you're an asshole. I do my work because they're dead," I said icily. "Contrary to what you believe, I am not some silly little girl."

Killua's smile was wry. "Trust me, you being a silly little girl is definitely contrary to what I do believe."

I continued as if I hadn't heard him. "I don't think me being a blacklist hunter will magically erase life's problems. And I'm not magically going to save the world from all the evil criminals. But I could at least save someone some sadness."

At this, Killua scoffed. "'Save someone some sadness'? That's why you're doing this? For a few measly tears?"

When I spoke, it was with a quiet strength of steel. "There's living, and then there's _how_ you live. I've realized the latter may be more important than the former."

Killua said nothing then, and I started to believe that I'd probably depressed him. But that was until he smiled that vague smile once again, and said, "I think your parents would be proud of you that you're giving an arrogant asshole like me a hard time and destroying his ego when the mood strikes you."

I laughed quietly and kept quiet for a minute or two, aware of Killua's scrutiny.

"Well, death has sort of screwed me over," I said, sighing ruefully. "I was only six when I lost them. I didn't have many family members. Only my uncle and one reclusive aunt who could barely deal with a little girl."

Killua shrugged, his features softening as he put his cup of tea aside. "It's amazing you didn't become a mopey person."

I watched him silently before speaking again. "I couldn't let them down that way."

Killua looked at the carpet and exhaled. It made sense that this conversation was difficult for me, but I couldn't work out why it seemed to be difficult for him too.

Desperate for a change, I kicked at his knee, nudging him. "Someone from your family called you tonight, didn't they?" Killua scowled at me in confusion. "Oh, come on. You knew I was going to ask about that. I'm stubborn and nosy and greedy for information, so suck it up."

"What made you think it was someone from my family?"

"Because it's the only thing you avoid to talk about."

He sighed and crossed his arms, the pale-white hair and skin contrasting his all-black attire. "Because I want to."

"That's a total cop out of an answer."

He huffed, his voice loaded itself with haughtiness. "I can cop out of whatever I'd like."

But I was not going to give up. I wanted him to reveal more about his background. "Was it your father, mother? I bet it was one of your brothers. Did he say something mean to upset you?"

"Let's not talk about him. He's not even worth the breath. He is a classic psychopath." He frowned to himself. "My whole family is insane."

"And why's that?"

"Well, for one thing, my mother dresses my youngest brother as a girl."

"Shut up," I said in a rush, eyes wide. "Why would she do that?"

He cracked a smile, amused by my reaction. "Difficult question. That's something I've asked myself almost my entire life. I guess it has to do with the fact that she wanted her fifth child to be a girl, and then got, for the lack of a better word, _outrageously_ frustrated when that didn't happen."

"And your brother's okay with that?"

"Yup. He loves it."

_Wow_. "How… I mean." My face scrunched up with either distaste or laughter, I didn't know. "_How_?"

"That's even a more difficult question."

I laughed. "That's freaking creepy. Let's be thankful you were not that youngest child."

Killua uncharacteristically scratched his nose. "She might have tried some, uhh, experiments on me when I was two…." He let the sentence wander.

My hands flew up to my mouth as I realized what he meant. "Oh no, you are not saying…"

"Yeah. I remember the kimono wasn't so comfortable." He made a face. "I don't think I was the prettiest girl."

Once I started giggling, I couldn't stop. "Oh, my god."

Offended that I was still laughing, Killua's look was fierce. "Okay, okay, the moment has passed. Stop laughing. Now."

"Tell me you have pictures, please."

"There are not, okay? Shut up."

I desperately tried to put on a straight face but my shoulders were shaking from the rumble of the laugh in my chest.

Adding more enjoyment for me, Killua threatened, "You have three seconds to stop smiling." But he was smiling, too, which made me laugh again.

"So that's why you've turned out like this. I bet that mother of yours had dropped you on your head a couple of times… while putting on a skirt on you."

"Stop it."

"Or maybe lipstick."

"_Stop it_. If you ever told a soul about this…."

The grin across my face refused to leave. "Depends. Are you going to be nice with me from now on?"

"You're going to blackmail me from now on, aren't you?"

"Nah, not entirely. But expect a lifetime teasing."

"Lovely," he huffed sarcastically, stretching his arms behind his head. His sleeves had ridden down with the motion, exposing his arms for me for the first time. Stunned, I found myself reaching forward and gripping his arms, staring more closely at the scars that were there. They were old, thin and ruler-straight on his creamy skin, as if it had been slashed with a razor blade or by a burning whip.

"Mm, it's not really any of my business," he commented jokingly, "but why exactly are you touching me? I know I have flawless skin, but seriously, don't you think you're pushing your luck—"

"Who did this to you?" I looked up at his smirking face. "These marks, scars, whatever. They look brutal."

For a split second, he winced, but the smirk was still there in its full glory. "I'm a hunter. Having battle scars is more than normal."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're a terrible liar. These are hardly_ battle scars_."

He took a breath and conceded, "I've gone through strict, uh, intense training back when I was a kid."

"Training?"

"Training to be… stronger."

I decided not to push him further, because this also sounded like another family issue. I didn't want to sound like an 'analytical stubborn' woman, it was becoming increasingly apparent to me that how he had lived was also down-to-the-marrow lonely. A feeling flooded me, akin to empathy, though I wasn't equipped to recognize it quite yet. I forced a smile, if only because I thought it would cancel the heaviness suddenly present in my mind.

"Thank you?"

I frowned. Killua was thanking me, something was seriously wrong with the world. "For what?"

The corners of his mouth hinted at amused lightness. "For not saying 'I'm sorry.'"

I grinned. "You're just mocking me now."

He pinched my leg. "Never."

"I'm not going to say 'I'm sorry', but I _am_ going to tell you that you're lonely."

Killua arched an eyebrow. "I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not. I have people around me. All the time."

"Doesn't mean you're not lonely," I argued.

He smirked, and predictably, changed the topic. "And you're the one with the sweet antidote of loneliness?"

"I swear to god, I'm going to puke if you keep pulling this beam-me-up-Scotty smirk."

"Oh, admit it. You love my smirks. You love them so much you want me to teach them to all the people you know."

"Oh dear," I said, laughing a little. "I wouldn't want that. One of you is enough."

"So you admit that you still want one of me, then?"

I stared at him blankly for a moment, trying to decide how I should answer that question. Unfortunately, of course, I began speaking before I had quite worked that out. "I, well… I don't not want you… I mean, I do want _you_ around, as a person, except you're not really a person, are you? But I don't want assholes around—you know what, whatever. I'm going to my room." I stood up and rushed to the door.

"Mmm," he drawled from behind me. "You have eloquently and thoroughly explained yourself. In other words, you want me, but you don't want me." As an afterthought, he muttered, "Women."

I laughed, turning around, but continuing to walk backwards. "Oh, no, I'm not going to get stuck in these little—"

"These little?" he prompted, walking forward towards me.

Suddenly aware that he was too close, my footsteps became quicker, maybe a bit more sluggish. "These little… uh, stupid mind games of yours. I'm not gonna get sucked…"

"Get sucked?" he said, still smirking and still moving.

"Into, umm, them. Into them." Reaching behind me to grasp the doorknob, I went from stumbling over my words to actually stumbling in my attempt to escape. Somehow, I managed to turn the knob and the door opened without warning. Failing to brace myself on the doorjamb, I lost balance and almost fell backwards if it wasn't for the arm that was suddenly swung around my waist, which, in a moment of mental fogginess, I realized was rather strong and muscular.

"Careful," Killua said quietly, his voice was free from its usual taunting, and he was no longer smirking.

"Yeah." I set a hand against his chest, meaning to push myself off of him, and him away from me. Instead, I found myself a little stuck this way—my hand over the place his heart would be if he weren't a heartless bastard, and his arm looped tightly around my back. We maintained eye contact because I was unable to look away.

A minute that felt like an eternity had passed before I spoke.

"I guess I'm lonely, too," I blurted. "And you're the only person I've had a decent conversation with in a long time. Hell, you're the only guy I've set foot in his room ever since I can remember."

"Uh-ah," he said absently, watching my face closely through these ridiculously intense, deep eyes. They weren't watching my face—only certain parts of it, and these parts weren't my eyes. I felt drawn to him then, even without him moving himself or his arm any closer; as if there was a rope bound my waist and he was slowly, inexorably pulling it.

Suddenly, he said, "I'm playing with fire."

"What?"

His gaze lingered on my lips for a few extra seconds before he said, "Good night, Yuki."

Blinking out of my semi-daze, I realized that he'd released me.

He went back inside the room, and shut the door.


	13. Friendship

**I do not own Hunter X Hunter.  
**

* * *

_**13. Friendship**_

* * *

I was sitting on the chair outside Kurapika's office with my legs dangling over the side lazily. I hadn't remembered the last time I was up this early. Well, in fact, I did–the last day I spent at my aunt's house. I did mention that she sort of kicked me out but I didn't specifically mention the reason.

After the murder of my parents, my aunt sweetly offered me a stay in her house. I was aware of the fact that my father's inheritance was the true motivation behind this gesture. And when my father's lawyer stated that my father's company reserved on his properties, Lida, my aunt, was furious. She later claimed that I was a bad influence to her daughter because of the Psychotherapy sessions I attended for three years. She told Gary that she had a feeling I was the suicidal type and she could no longer bear having me under her roof any longer.

Thankfully, I was the picture of calm and decorum. I accepted her request without complaining, knowing that it would do me no good if I turned against her by being so drastic. To be honest, I was excited to leave that house despite how awful I felt about leaving my cousin who was more like a best-friend to me. Like who wants to live with an aunt who keeps telling them how stupid her brother was for marrying their 'hypocrite' mother?

One of the bedroom's door swung open, complete with squeaky hinge sound effect. Killua stepped out dressed only in his pants with a crinkled shirt. His hair was spiked in every direction, and he was rubbing his eyes in the cutest way.

"Why are you awake? It's almost six in the morning," Killua asked me, standing now in front of my face with his eyes half shut. His hair was as messy as ever; a mop of white feathers and just as soft. I noticed there were dark circles under his eyes due to his lack of sleep. And as overused and cliché this is, he took my breath away.

"It's because I'm so excited for today's meeting, can't you tell?" I answered.

Killua rubbed his eyes furiously in an attempt to get rid of that gritty, feverish feeling that comes with sleep deprivation. "I believe you are being highly sarcastic," he said before yawning.

"No shit, Sherlock," I replied and he smiled. "You look really tired."

"Gon kept mumbling in his sleep, scratching his arms and legs loudly. God knows what he was dreaming of." He finally opened his eyes all the way. "He drove me crazy."

I pinched the spot between my eyes in a vain attempt to dull my headache. "Then kick him out," I answered simply. "There are hundreds of rooms in this place."

"I can't do that. I was the one who suggested having him as a roommate."

"So what, you're just going to repress everything in some deep, dark, twisted place until one day you snap and you kill him while he's sleeping?" Killua laughed. He actually laughed. Okay, it was more of a chuckle, but it was not one of mockery. I tried not to smile.

He folded his arms over his chest and rested his back against the wall, slowly sliding down as the weariness consumed him. "So what are we going to do now? I'm hungry," he announced.

"Yeah me too." We both quietly stared at the wide windows in the room, basically thinking about our next move. "We can have some pancakes?" I suggested, phrasing it like a question.

"With chocolate syrup?"

"Ugh, can't you eat _anything_ without chocolate? I'm positively sure there is no chocolate syrup in this place," I said.

He smirked perniciously, one that held various meanings. "We can go to that restaurant again."

It was my turn to smile. "Oh are you asking me out?"

He glimpsed at me with the corner of his eye, instinctively making me shiver in response. "Maybe…."

But before I could respond to that, Kurapika showed up out of nowhere, followed by Senritsu, wearing an odd expression of worry mixed with relief. Worry because obviously something bad was happening, and relief because he saw us.

"Yuki, to the meeting room," he ordered, his voice cold as ice and eyes black as coals. "Killua, bring Gon and follow us."

Killua and I exchanged a confused look before we complied immediately.

Kurapika hurried to the office.

"Senritsu," I whispered in a velvet glove. "Someone died?"

"No, but someone will," she replied in a voice just as low. I flinched and tried not to to make it obvious, but I think Senritsu did notice. The woman notices everything.

"There is something I need to discuss with you," Kurapika started after Gon and Killua entered the room. "I have been going over this in my mind since last night, and I believe I should share my decision with you."

"About Hisoka?" Gon guessed.

The blond nodded. "Hisoka came to warn me about something," Kurapika said. "I tried to figure out his intentions behind this but I couldn't. He said that…the Spiders are planning on crashing the building in seven days."

"_What?_" It took all the brains I still had just to keep me from gawking. I was not the only one who intensified by this. I noticed that Gon's jaw clenched almost as tightly as his fist.

Had I been right about assuming that something of that nature might happen? As nice as it is to be right most of the time, there are times when you might wish you _hadn't _been right. This, for me, was one of those times.

"What if he's lying?" Killua's voice was stable except for the slight concern that exposed his expressions.

What pissed me off was that it didn't have to happen. Not like this.

"That's why I gathered you here. I want you to know if he's lying or not," Kurapika explained. How could he be so maddeningly calm about this? "Hisoka informed me of their location in Meteor City and said that they are probably there right now, so I want to ask one of you to go there and check the validity of Hisoka's assertions. I can't go because of my busy schedule. Do you think you can do it, Killua?"

"Yes, I'll be there in a week from now."

Kurapika nodded. "But you should be careful. You don't want to get caught by them…again. Any single mistake will be fatal."

"Then maybe I should go too," I suggested.

"_NO!_" The resounding negative came from Killua, Kurapika, Gon and Senritsu. I blinked at the sudden attention thrown in my direction.

"Absolutely not," Killua said.

"I mean…it's too dangerous," Gon said.

"I agree with Gon," Kurapika said.

"We need you here, Yuki," Senritsu said.

"Oh come on! You realize you're being incredibly sexist right?" I looked at them in disbelief. "Two is definitely better than one. Besides, they don't know my face, and even if I get caught, I will feign innocence and act like I'm just a normal girl. And Killua can hide while they interrogate me."

Kurapika stared at me. "Considering that Pakunoda is no longer one of them, there are no worries."

"_Wait!_" Killua interjected angrily. "You're not actually considering her request, are you?"

"There's a big chance that you are not even going to meet any of them. You are just going to let me know if Hisoka was lying or not. Personally, I think he is for some reason." Kurapika paused, glancing at us. "I have faith in your abilities, both of you. Everything will go a lot smoother if you are together."

"That's right, Killua," Gon said.

Now I had absolutely nothing to say; the lump in my throat had cut me off. And I couldn't say Killua's staring helped anything.

* * *

_The former assassin put on his black vest and looked at himself for a moment in the mirror. The last time he wore a formal suit was when his mother arranged a photo-shoot for the whole family. She forced everyone to attend repeatedly telling them that every legendary family should have a framed picture to hang on the wall. His father was strictly against the idea and he thought it was an unnecessary thing to do, but his grandfather eventually convinced him._

_Killua could still remember Milluki's whines when his mother announced that everyone should wear black suits, everyone except Kalluto of course. The photo-shoot went well, but Killua believed they all looked painfully ridiculous. _

_He looked like someone had just slapped him in the face.  
_

_Illumi and Kalluto looked like dummies with their super blank expressions. _

_His mother was the only one who managed to smile while holding her feather black umbrella._

_Milluki looked like he was about to cry._

_Alluka was running around like a headless chicken, refusing to take a serious pose for the camera._

_Killua smiled at the sudden memory as he turned to face his companion. "Do I look like I'm so happy for Leorio? Because I'm not sure that I can fake it more than this."_

_"You look just fine," Gon reassured. "But I don't get it, you're not happy for him?"_

_"Uh, for ruining his life? Absolutely not. But I'm going to be a good friend and try to make my congratulations sound as sincere as possible." _

_"Do you think getting married is a mistake?"  
_

_"No that's not what I meant, but come on, Gon. You know Leorio. He is not responsible enough to be committed in such a way. Can you imagine him having kids? I know I can't.__ Sometimes he can hardly be human, do you think he will be able to produce?__"_

_Gon chuckled weakly at the thought. "Give him a break, Killua. He may surprise you."_

_"Truthfully, I'll be really surprised if his marriage last for three months."_

_Gon hit his friend's shoulder in protest. "Now you're just being mean! I think we should give him a chance."_

_"You are too optimistic, my friend. Some people are just not 'father material'," Killua simply replied._

_All of a sudden, Gon looked down. Sadness pervaded his features. "You're right. Not everyone can be a father."_

_Killua frowned, confused. "What is it?"_

_"Nothing."_

_Killua grabbed his friend's arm and turned him back, looking at him intensely. "Gon, it's obviously something. Tell me."_

_The black-haired boy sighed and focused his gaze on his feet. "I-I'm just…terrified," he admitted._

_"Terrified?" It was very unusual to hear such a word from someone like Gon.  
_

_"Yes," he answered. "I'm terrified that someday I'll lose hope to find Ging. That someday I'll stop caring about it."_

_"You won't okay? And we will find him. I'll stay with you until we find him," Killua promised, but his words weren't good enough to erase the frown from Gon's face._

_"You know what Killua?" Gon paused, smiling to himself. "A little part in me doesn't want to find Ging."_

_"You don't mean that."_

_"Yes I do," Gon pressed. _

_Killua's attempt to read his friend this time was in vain. "Why?"_

_"Because I have a feeling that…when we find him, I'm going to lose you."_

_Killua smiled heavily. "Don't be silly," he said as he headed towards the door. "Now let's go. We are so late."_

_"You won't do it right?" Gon's tone was hopeful. "You won't go back to that house."_

_Killua's hand on the knob froze as he tried not to show how deeply his friend's words affected him. "I won't, Gon."_

_"Because if that's what you're planning to do, then I don't want to find Ging."_

_"…"_

_"Killua?"  
_

_"I told you I won't. It's the last place I want to be. Can we go now before you somehow manage to make this more awkward?"_

_Gon laughed cheerfully. "Yeah yeah, I'm sorry. Let's go."_

* * *

"Killua!"

When the meeting was over, Killua stalked away like a bullet. Without thinking about whether it was a good idea or not, I followed him, hoping he would give me a reasonable explanation for his unusual behavior. I truthfully had no idea what to expect.

"Talk to me! I'm not going to run after you forever you know."

His silence only helped to fuel my anger. I hated it when he'd prattle on the way he did, but looking back on it all now, I think I hated it even more when he was silent. I could tell he was obviously furious about something. Before now, I almost thought he didn't even _have_ a temper.

"For God's sake, where are you going?"

"To hell, I suppose. Where you chose to go with me!"

_Uh, that._ _I knew it!_

"You're overreacting," I replied calmly, not at all intimidated by his action.

He snorted. "Am _I_? You're apparently one of those girls who think they are so strong they can handle anything! Well you can't! And I'm doing this by myself."

In that one moment alone, I wanted to hurt him. I couldn't say just how much I wanted to sock his jaw so nothing more could either go in or out. But I couldn't, because even if I had hit him, would it change anything? I doubt it. "Unbelievable! You can't even lower your pride the slightest bit and allow one to help you?"

Finally, he turned at my direction and his dangerous expression was a mixture of surprise and betrayal. I could feel all the sensations leaving me again, leaving me as dense as a pillar. All I'd wanted was to get out of my rut, but something in my knotted gut told me that I had just jumped into something worse. Way worse.

Every blood cell in my veins froze into crystals the instant his hand swung up to squeeze my wrist, my pulse felt like it was going to jump right out of my skin under his touch. "Stay out of it. I'm not allowing you to come with me." I couldn't say what exactly, but something was off with the way he looked at me, all of a sudden. More off than any other time before, I mean, almost dangerous even. With every shaky step I took away from him, he moved a step towards me.

My free hand fought to dig through his fingers as I tried to tug and pry my arm out of his grip. "Let go of me! I'm warning you! With this attitude, I tend to get a bit bitchy and violent!" I snapped, mentally wincing at the waver in my tone. My voice must have shot up a whole octave, which I couldn't say did any good in making me sound tough.

"What the hell were you thinking? I never realized you could be so reckless with your own life!" he said, almost wearily but nonetheless unyielding.

"I am already risking my life working here! And you can't do this by yourself!"

His reaction to my statement was a bit unexpected as he vehemently pulled me closer, his face was only a couple of inches away from mine. "I don't need your help," he hissed. I practically focused on pushing him off of me but all my attempts were for naught. In fact, the more I pried at his fingers, the more they tightened around my wrist. His touch felt cold and impassive, almost like a handcuff.

"You don't trust me," I said, tumbling out in a flurry. I started to feel a little apprehensive. As much as I was completely sure he wouldn't hurt me, I was scared. Scared of him? Scared of my own self? I couldn't fathom this sort of terror. All I knew was that I never saw him this angry before.

He brought me nearer to him again and dared me to break away from the intensity in his eyes. "This is_ not_ about trust! You don't know these people! I do. They won't hesitate in killing you if they smell anything unnatural!"

"Let me get this straight." I paused to glare at his hand one more time, but he still refused to sag his grip. I sighed in irritation and continued, "Are you worrying that I may get killed or you actually think I'm going to slow you down? Because I'm telling you, I didn't get my Hunter License by luck. I don't see what the heck is your problem!" I said that kind of loud, on account of I could hardly hear myself over my thundering heartbeat. Hey, whatever I could do to sound tough, I'd do it.

Killua looked at me as if I had just said something completely ludicrous and foreign. "Spare me this idiocy will you? You can't even take your hand out of mine. What will you do if they catch you? You think that freaking License will benefit you?"

Anger rose inside of me as well. Here he was again being frustratingly superior. I tried to squirm out of his grip again. "If they catch _you_, you will be dead immediately! If any help I can provide will forbid this, I don't see any reason not to do it!"

I don't know _what_ I was thinking when I said that. That might be it, though; I _wasn't _thinking. It sounded much better in my head.

He finally let go of my hand with much force causing me to slightly lose my balance. "Don't try to save me okay? Put a little thought into saving yourself!"

"What does that supposed to mean now?"

"You're not coming with me. End of discussion!" he informed me before striding to the door of his room and slamming it shut behind him. I did the same thing when I got inside my own room.

_Damn him!_

What was up with those hunters? All of them were the same. I knew hunters were supposed to be jerks. The really good ones, anyway, which meant Killua had to be the practical godfather of jerks. I just hadn't counted on how jerky he really could be until today.

Except…what if he was really worried about me? What if this was his only way to be affectionate? Ugh! That wouldn't change the fact that he was a huge jerk. I mean, he almost broke my hand!_  
_

I threw myself face-down on the mattress, clinging to the pillows for at least half an ounce of comfort. Probably not the best way to react, but I couldn't help it. My grip on the pillows tightened, almost to the point of ripping them to shreds.

That was when I heard a sound of knuckles on my door. I lifted my head slowly. "Come in." A lethal silence fell on the other side of the door, which kind of freaked me out because silence usually meant something. I wouldn't say weird, but definitely suspicious. What the hell was wrong with me? If this stupid thing freaked me out, how was I supposed to go to Meteor City? "Come in," I repeated. To my major amazement, Killua stepped inside wearing an expression of angst and indecision. He was holding a small white bag in his hand that I didn't know what it was then.

Perfectly unsure of this visit, I prepared myself for another fight.

"Hey." For a strange reason, it was funny to hear such an informal word coming from him in this messed up situation.

"Hey," I answered matching his tone. It took pretty much all the strength I still had to prop myself up on my elbows. "I hope you're here to apologize."

He helped himself to sit on the bed next to me and murmured, "Kinda." Then he gently placed my hand on his legs and pressed the ice bag on my wrist making me flinch at its coldness and mostly because of the shiver that rippled through me under his touch. It was when I noticed that my wrist was terribly swollen. My anger towards him gradually melted into tolerance and my abhorrence transformed into attraction.

Clearing my throat as much as I could until it felt raw, I muttered, "Well, your apology is accepted." He smiled softly. "But I'm still going with you."

He sighed in frustration, his smile still evident on his face as his hand continued pressing the ice against mine. "You're so stubborn."

"I've heard that before." I stopped to glance at him. "Why did you change your mind now?"

"I know you are going to follow me anyway even if I said no."

I chuckled. "If I'm not mistaken, then it has been only one week since the beginning of our friendship. May I ask how do you know me so well?"

"Hardly surprising. I know you since you were a little girl," he teased.

I rolled my eyes as I muttered, "Very funny. Anyway, I'm impressed. It must be a gift of yours."

"Does that mean that you're not angry with me?"

"No, I'm not. Are you?" I asked skeptically.

"Yes."

It shocked me just how easily he responded. "Can I know why?" For a long, merciless moment, I stayed perfectly still, almost too terrified to say anything that could simply get him angry again.

"Because you're leaving me with no choice here but to acquiesce to your request." He shook his head and finally removed the ice bag. My hand was numb from the first finger down to the wrist in a straight line. "If something happened…"

I squeezed his hand in return. "I know, but you have to trust me on this."

Killua threw me a glance of despair. "Okay."


	14. Do Not Belong

**I do not own Hunter X Hunter.  
**

* * *

_**14. Do Not Belong  
**_

A week had passed.

"You know," I said, musing. "Since you're here—well, since you pretty much _intruded_ my room—but you're here, so…" I held up two shirts. "Which one should I wear tonight? I don't want to look pretentious to the people in Meteor City."

Killua arched an eyebrow. "The blue one," he advised.

"Why? Does it bring out the color of my eyes?" I fished, batting my eyelashes outrageously.

He snorted indelicately. "No, it's lower cut. Your breasts would look nice."

I contemplated that. "Hmm. Sadly enough, that line is the nicest thing you've said to me so far."

Killua grinned. "What, I was being honest. Why do you girls get so sensitive when we guys comment on your breasts? It's so weird. If you imagine the roles were reversed, and I actually got offended if you told me, 'You have nice pecs,' you would realize just how ridiculous you girls are."

I laughed. "Stop talking, Killua. We're not having a conversation about breasts."

"Why not? Don't be so cruel. I've had a long, hard morning, and tonight, I'm traveling to a place that looks like a trash can. The least you could do is talk to me about breasts. I mean, seriously. That's just human decency." I laughed, but he still continued to beg his case. "And it'd be absolutely great if talking gets to _showing_."

I tried to look offended but just wound up laughing. He looked so self-satisfied right now. If he was a dwarf, he'd be called Smirky.

"You really are arrogant," I told him. "It's kind of infuriating." And bizarrely attractive.

"What's going to woo you enough to show me something? Flowers and candy? Psh. I took you to a nice restaurant. I carried you to your room when you fell asleep. What else? Do you want me to quote some poetry to you?"

I grimaced. "I wouldn't like that, anyway, to be honest."

"What I'm saying is that I've been a very good friend this week. And you know what'd definitely, _definitely_ make me feel better," he said, wiggling his eyebrows like he was the one giving me a great deal. "I mean, what are friends for?"

"You want me to take my shirt off?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah?" His face was so emphatic it made me grin.

"I will if you will."

Instantaneously, he stood from my bed where he'd been sitting all this time, and reached behind him. I think that nanoseconds were too long to measure how quickly it took him to yank his shirt over his head. He was smirking. "Deal."

I laughed and took off my shirt, catching his face just in time to see the way it fell when he realized that I was wearing a tank top underneath.

"Deal," I said.

"What? No fair!" he whined.

"You should have been more specific," I warned with a shrug, and tried not to sneak secret glances at him shirtless.

Killua pouted, and it made him look like a little boy with a young man's body. He grabbed his shirt and started pulling it back on. "You just missed your chance to make my mouth water."

I rolled my eyes and threw my shirt at his head. "Let's go, we'd be late."

* * *

The blimp landed on a desolate place where only malicious and violent creatures lived. Throughout the whole ride, the passengers were looking at us in disgust, but nobody said anything and they dropped their gazes when Killua bothered to look at them. Did they think we were residents of Meteor City? That was possible. No sane person would ever dare to visit the city just for the sake of tourism.

Oh but we were the exception.

I looked around me. It felt like we had relocated to another planet. Darkness was everywhere and the smell of death was everywhere, enveloping the place like a shroud. Even though I blinked through trying to detect even a single ray of light, I found none. The expression on Killua's face wasn't as distressed as mine. In fact, he looked like he had just walked into a familiar place.

"This place is creepy. Is this usually the part where the guy with the chains comes up from under the ground and tears us to pieces?"

A shuffling noise came from behind the bushes.

I burst out laughing. "Oh my—Did you just jump?"

"No," Killua said, looking angry. "And shut up. Try not to pay much attention towards us by using Zetsu."

"Okay."

That was when I heard something. It was strange, inhuman.

"Something is coming, but it has a strange aura," I whispered, locating the horrible smell of the creature. "I don't know what it is though."

From behind the bushes, a frantic dog suddenly jumped up and began snuffling at us. He was huge. His bared teeth were stained with blood and his sharp claws were wrenched out of his paws that was pounding hard against the ground. The right side of his face was shredded and crisscrossed with claw marks. A frighteningly gaping hole was all that was left of his right eye.

I shuddered. "Yuck."

Killua harshly gripped my elbow, jerking me backward. "Don't move," he ordered, boredom lacing his voice. He walked his way to the dog.

I put my hands on my hips and glared at his back. "That's a rabid dog, Killua. If he bites you, you're dead."

But he didn't listen and went for it. The fight, if I could even call it that, between him and the dog barely lasted three seconds before the dog's body sprawled motionless on the bloody ground, his head separated from his body.

I sidestepped around the already rotten corpse to where Killua stood. "You okay?"

He glanced at me. "Yeah. Let's go."

"It's safe to touch you, right? No rabies?"

He rolled his emerald eyes at me—or at the road, since he was attempted to ignore me. "You wanna touch me that badly? Geez, Yuki, try to control your attraction to me. We're in public."

"Attraction. Sure. We'll call it that."

He gave me his arrogantly bored glance. "There's a very thin line between love and hate."

"Oh, it's pretty _distinct_ to me."

"Well, as much as I'd love to prove you wrong, it has to wait. We're officially in the Spider's cache."

"We are?" I looked around me. "I can't feel anything. There is no one in here."

"Let's move closer to make sure," he suggested.

The warehouse was incredibly dark, shined only by a single ray of moonlight from above. It was shrouded in shadows. Like a scene out of some bad horror movie when the actors would go into a dark alley even though they knew the killer would be lurking there. Once I inspected further, I found a large room that apparently had went through some kind of a tornado or an earthquake. Destruction was everywhere, but it somehow gave the place a peaceful feel. Though the reason would probably be the very high stained glass that almost took an entire wall. It gave the light within the room an otherworldly quality, a heraldic glow. But it was beautiful. And lonely. It all looked very lonely.

Ten minutes had passed since our arrival, and the warehouse was still empty.

I gave the place one last look, sighing. "So I guess this is it."

"Yeah," Killua groaned, his hands in his pockets. "What a waste. Hisoka's such a bastard."

"Why would he lie about something like that? Something doesn't feel right."

"What have I told you? He likes to mess with people's minds." He took a thoughtful pause, frowning. "You're right, though. There must be a bigger reason."

Suddenly, we heard quiet footsteps coming from somewhere around us.

Both of us stiffened at the same time.

Out of the blue, Killua went from standing across the room to standing directly in front of me. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me to a dark alley where he pushed me roughly against a wall, ignoring my gasping protests. One of his hands moved to my mouth to silence me. "Shh," he whispered, his finger to his lips.

I scowled at him to release me, but his arms were like steel bands.

"Look," he said, and dropped the hand he had over my mouth. His heartbeat was like a calming drum under my palm. "Stay right here. I'm just going to see what that sound was."

_Uh…what?_ Rational thought fled my mind as I used my other hand to grip tightly at his shirt, forbidding him to move. "Are you kidding me? No! You are certainly not going, you idiot. I'm not allowing you to."

"What do you— No, listen to me, I'm just going to make sure that none of them is in the region."

I ignored his reply, stubbornly refusing to let him go as I closed my eyes to concentrate. "No, you stay here. Don't go."

His eyes lit up with recognition and a small smile crept across his lips. Despite the ultimate crazy situation we were caught in, I felt unbelievably safe, and the idea of allowing him to throw himself in the unknown was far too horrifying.

"What's the matter with you?" His voice was cold yet strangely soft.

"Let's assume that the sound was of one of them. That goddamn Spider won't leave you alone. And I—_no,_" I spoke authoritatively and surely, a tone I'd never used on anyone before. "You're not going."

"No?"

"No."

His stubbornness incensed me. "_No?_"

"No. No, I forbid it."

"You can't forbid it." Killua arched his eyebrow at me. Both of us seemed to really forget what the argument was about, and focused on the _argument_ itself.

"Okay. Then I order you not to go."

"Order?" he said incredulously. "You are not a commander and I'm not your army. You can't order me anything."

"You will not go anywhere, Killua!" I raised my voice to a full shout, making him gasp and look around frantically.

"Keep your voice down!" he hissed. "How are you going to stop me?"

"I'll… I'll…" I paused, gripping him harder and searching for words before visibly deflating. "I'll be very sad," I said, pathetically.

"Yuki—"

"And incredibly worried."

"Yu—"

"And horridly distraught."

"Yuki," he said, gently.

"You might die."

"Die?" he scoffed. "I can assure you that—"

I stopped him. "If you really want to assure me, then stay here. And if you insist on finding out who was there, let _me_ do it."

His stare was deep and penetrating and seemed to go right through me. "No, I'm staying."

"Thank you."

He brushed a tendril of hair over my shoulder. His hand rested on the side of my neck, his thumb just brushing my jawline. I flinched, surprised by his gentleness. "We could both die here, you know. You're making this pretty easy."

"The only reason I came here with you is to protect you, even if what I'm protecting you with is just my presence. I'm only doing my job." I didn't know if it was because I had this bodyguard's sense of duty or if it was because of him, but the thought of Killua getting hurt or in pain triggered a strange, overwhelming panic inside me. "I can't not do my job and I can't let you go." The last part probably didn't sound right, but I didn't care. "Is this too much to ask?"

He smiled. "No. It perfectly makes sense."

One minute, I was locked in a staring contest with him until he decided to put an end to this.

He leaned closer, so close that the tip of his nose touched my cheek. I looked up at him, meaning to watch his eyes, but my gaze came to a stop at his lips. His motion was slow and cumbersome as if he was straggling, and I gritted my teeth in concentration. The musky scent of him was almost overpowering. I bit my lip as I tried to contain the blush that still consumed my face. He was so close. It was too much to take. I wanted to forget all about the tension between us that stemmed from my recent bad habit of proving myself the whole time. I took another deep breath and tightened my hold on his shirt, preparing myself for whatever he was planning to do.

Then his phone vibrated.

He released me. His entire form sank as he sighed and pulled out the phone from his front pocket. "Kurapika?" He looked around him. "Yes we are safe—no we didn't find them there—I suppose he was lying after all—of course—yes—we are on the way—yes. Bye." When he hung up, I noticed his knuckles were bright white when he shoved them into his pockets and coughed a little bit. "We should—"

"—go back? Yeah," I finished for him, picking up the bag that had slipped out of my shoulder while I had…been otherwise engaged with him. "Oh! What was that sound from earlier anyway?"

Killua shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "Probably just a freakin' cat."

I walked next to him on the way back.

That night, the thought of him dying was a heart-wrenching one. It reminded me of passion. It started from merely a spark of thought, only to grow into a huge fire consuming every corner of my mind. Wishing death on him, wishing any sort of pain, was something I could never even consider, not even in my darkest moments. And it wasn't just because of the blooming feelings I'd been developing for him, but him dying? It didn't sound right to me. It was the opposite of right, the opposite of justice.

Or so I thought.


	15. Matter of Life and Death

**I do not own Hunter X Hunter.  
**

* * *

_**15. Matter of Life and Death  
**_

_The sheer white curtains billowed in through the open window with the warm night air, like the sails of a ship setting off into the night. The small balcony overlooked the quiet forest and the vast ocean. The interior of his bedchamber in the Zaoldyeck mansion was not like anything to be seen in the room of a twelve year old boy.__He always knew that his family could eliminate the poverty of__millions of people dying of hunger if they wanted to__._

_But who are we kidding? _

_The Zaoldyecks could even kill a homeless man if he happened to be a target. They would do anything for the money. _

_The assassin walked out of his bathroom wearing nothing but a __towel around his waist_. He looked at himself in the mirror that was leaning over the counter and took a good look at the the scar on his cheek _that_ extended from just below his right eye. His target tonight was slightly violent. 

_Words couldn't express how much he hated his lifestyle in this place, or how much he detested his job. But tomorrow, everything would be over. He finally decided to escape. It brought an amused smile on his face when he imagined the look on his mother's face when she would hear about his decision__. He knew she was going to flip out. In fact, there was only one single thing that mattered to the Zaoldyecks more than the money._ It was the bloodline of the killers. 

_Too bad he would turn out to be a big disappointment. _

_His reverie was interrupted __by the ingress of Tamayo, a good looking maid in a __black dress with double apron. She was holding a tray of food and the minute her eyes landed on Killua, she smiled tenderly. _

_"I'm so sorry for not knocking, Killua-sama. Your father specifically informed me that you wouldn't be back before midnight."_

_"Yeah I got back early. Don't tell anyone that you saw me because I actually sneaked in."_

_Tamayo nodded in understanding. "Don't worry about it." She looked at her hands. "I brought your dinner and thought it would be better to leave it in your room."_

_He examined the tray for a second and found nothing interesting. "I'm not hungry."_

_"You have to eat something! Otherwise you might wake up in the middle of the night with hunger and spoil your sleep."_

_"I don't feel like eating anything, but I won't mind some hot chocolate." _

_The smile on her face returned as she placed the tray on the table and complacently handed him the cup. "I already knew you were going to ask for it, Killua-sama, so I prepared it without letting your mother know about it." He accepted the cup with a mutual smile and sipped at it tentatively, relaxing slightly as he leaned against the edge of the counter. Then his eyes laid on a shiny golden circular band that was taking up residence on Tamayo's left hand._

_"What's that?" he asked her nonchalantly, but he was significantly curious. _

_She beamed as she lifted her hand up to look at the ring more closely. "Oh, yesterday I got engaged," she stated, her joy evident. She was simply comfortable to have such a conversation with him. Tamayo had no __sympathy with the Zaoldyecks' traditions or social needs. She__ thought contemptuously of them, but Killua was an exception. ______He always made her feel like a friend instead of a servant. And it was not just her. ______Everyone liked Killua. _  


_He was surely not expecting to hear such a thing. The fact that there was a person in this mansion who was actually getting a happy ending was something incredibly surprising to him. "To whom?" he asked, trying to match her exciting tone. _

_"To Ryuu," she answered, her eyes sparkling. _

_"Ryuu? The butler?"_

_"Yes, we kinda wanted to take our relationship to the next level." _

_"How come I've never noticed?" he asked as he made his way to the closet room to change and got out fully clothed in a hooded sweatshirt and a pair of shorts. "I spend half of my free time with Goto! And Ryuu never really shows affection towards anyone."_

_"He doesn't want us to be exposed." She laughed. "We will be dead if that happens."_

_"I see." He took the cup in his hand again, his eyes never leaving hers as he brushed strands of wet hair off of his face. "Too bad I won't have the chance to congratulate him."_

_She looked at him, shook her head, and looked at him again. "No, Killua-sama. You don't mean that…"_

_"I'm leaving in the morning."_

_"You are?" She gasped and couldn't stop herself from feeling dearly pleased for him and a little jealous. "Where are you going?"_

_He chuckled uneasily. "I have no idea."_

_"But… but… are you sure you're gonna be alright?" _

_"Absolutely."_

_"I-I don't know what to say, Killua-sama. Except…" She smiled at him kindly. "Good luck."_

_He nodded, unsure of what to say. _

_"I hope you find what you're looking for," she muttered and laughed heartily to herself, wringing her hands sheepishly. "Like I found mine." _

_They stood quietly, thinking about their future plans. He lay across the bed's length and closed his eyes, forgetting that he was in a foreign environment in which he was not alone in his room. She was gazing __out of the window, intensely conscious of the romantic beauty of the night as the wind continued its steady pace around the room. Killua shoved his hands deeper into his shorts pockets in hopes of protecting them from the crisp air and glimpsed at the dreamy woman._

___"What is it like?" It was his turn to interrupt her reverie._

_She narrowed her eyes, still smiling. "Sorry?" __  
_

_"To be in love. What is it like?"_

_Her eyes twinkled as if she knew something wonderful that the rest of world didn't. She sat on his bed, resting her palms on the sheets. "Being in love is… I don't know exactly how to describe it, but… it is when you are not trying to find reason to your feelings. They have no cause, they just are. It is like a disease that grows on you and you can't seem to find a cause. When you are in love sometimes you even disregard reality and common sense. Your body has its own music and when you see that person, it is like the best high you've ever experienced. Just the thought of that person's absence will want you to jump in front of a running train. Being in love comes natural; it is not planned neither pushed down someones throat."_

_Killua raised an eyebrow at her. "Sounds scary."_

_She laughed. "It is, Killua-sama. Scary but beautiful." She got up and lifted the tray again. "Are you sure you are not hungry?"_

_"Yes," he replied in a distracted manner. "You can have my dinner if you want."_

_"That's sweet of you, Killua-sama. I wish your brothers were as half nice as you."_

_He blushed a little and scratched the back of his head. "Speaking of sweet, make sure to stay away from that chocolate cake." He pointed at one of the plates. "It has hydrocyanic acid in it." _

_She looked at him in horror. __"IT DOES?"  
_

_"My mother made it right?" he asked. Tamayo nodded weakly. "Then it absolutely does."_

_'Good Lord, Killua-sama. You really should get out of here. The sooner the better!" _

_He smiled.  
_

* * *

"That wasn't the first time you killed somebody—or something, was it?"

Killua kept staring at the road ahead of us as he spoke, "Why would you assume?"

"Mmm maybe because you carry around a deadly aura? Because you killed that dog like it's a daily routine, as easy as brushing your teeth? Or a game, or something."

"So?" He looked me over and smiled crookedly. "Since killing is my game. Wanna start calling me Death?"

"Huh?" His question made me forget mine, and I was staring at his profile. Death? Well, he _was_ pale and unkempt, just like how he had always appeared. And, honestly, he looked like death. Or more accurately, he looked like Death, which was apropos. "You sure 'bout that? It's not really a term of endearment."

"It's not. But it sounds badass, and I represented it, in the past. I could still represent it."

"What is?"

"Death. The opposite of life. That thing that everyone is afraid of." Killua sniffed dramatically. "That thing that hath sucked the honey of her lips but had no power on Juliet's beauty."

"Ohh that Death," I drawled, and I could tell Killua did not appreciate the sarcasm, even if his own sense of humor tended to be rather deadpan. I played along. "But I always thought Death wore a hooded cape—"

"Myth, I just prefer black," he said with a smirk, gesturing at his black attire with a wave of his hand.

"And carries a scythe—"

"Too unwieldy, I use my hand when there's a stabbing or a beheading."

"So you're the Grim Reaper?"

"Grim Reaper, Ankou, Yamraj, Shinigami, Thanatos—many names, many legends, many myths, one dude—that's me. Hello." He wiggled the fingers of his hand.

I smiled, but I knew very well it looked uneasy. The topic no longer sounded funny. "Whatever. Shut up now."

Killua laughed. "Why are you so intimidated?"

"I'm not intimidated," I said. _Lie_. "I just wanna talk about something less morbid."

"Morbid," he tsk-tsked. "Call me that again and I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll—" He threw his arms lazily in the air "—kill this entire city."

I grinned, then snorted. "My hairless chinny-chin-chin doesn't give a damn. I'm immune to threats. How about I give _you _a choice—either talk to me like normal person or get your ass out of here—ride around on a pale horse with Hell following very close behind—whatever you are."

"'Whatever I am,'" Killua echoed, nodding solemnly. "Your words are _so_ cutting," he taunted.

"I'm sorry." I rubbed his back. "How about 'you monochromatic freak of nature?'"

"You haven't heard of 'The kiss of death'?" he went on, unaffected by my insults. He glanced at me with a strange smile. "Maybe tonight you were lucky you avoided my kiss."

Time seemed to stop and space seemed to still as I discreetly regarded his lips in a way that made it seem as though I was interested in testing whether 'the kiss of death' was actually true or not. The mere thought of it made me feel both shaky and delighted.

Suddenly, as if realizing just what my gaze was resting on, just what my thoughts were contemplating, I jerked my eyes away. Shrugging casually, I said, "Pshh. I _am_ lucky."

Our night reached its end when the infamous York Shin's rain set in a steady drizzle, dampening our enthusiasm and encumbering our adventures of tonight. We stood beneath a roofed entrance of some building, waiting for the rain to stop. We were both slightly tired after strange but nice day. The conversation hadn't ceased however, and I was currently back on a roll of questions about Killua's experiences, or rather, lack thereof.

"Have you ever celebrated Christmas?"

"Nop, but I've ruined some."

"Have you ever stayed up all night?"

"Does it count if I sometimes haven't gone to sleep for weeks?"

I stared at him. He was standing at the opposite wall, his hands seeking the warmth of his pockets. The way he looked—wet and shivering—he didn't look as intimidating as he was trying to be.

I changed my questions.

"Have you ever had your heart broken?"

His answer was a little quiet. "I'm Death, remember? Would have to have a heart for that, wouldn't I?" he joked. But to me, I was bridging a gap between us, understanding the nature of his how he used to live—or probably how he still lived—feeding my empirically inclined mind by stuffing it with as much knowledge of him as I could. I was trying to build a path around the crater of distance between us.

I was silent for a few minutes. My voice wavered slightly, as I asked, "Have you ever been in love?"

Killua looked at me carefully, answering, "See my previous answer. I told you I don't love."

He slid down the wall, stretching his legs wearily, and I mimicked him, only with my knees folded.

"Well, sucks to be you," I replied haughtily, somehow not expressing my utter disbelief at the words I had just said. I'd come to a strange agreement with my mind that I would comprehend who Killua was, as well as my burgeoning fondness for him, with an arms' length acceptance. This allowed me to treat him like any other fellow I spent significant amounts of time with—not that there were any other ones. But for what it was worth, he was just another guy, a good-looking, slightly annoying, and surprisingly endearing guy. A friend.

At least, that was what my brain had agreed to call him, even if my heart was calling the bluff.

"Yes, that does seem to be the theme here," Killua agreed, smirking. "I've never loved, I've never been loved, I have no life, I've been universally hated, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera."

I smiled. "You're not universally hated."

His eyes crept over to me. "I'm not?"

"You're not," I answered, but didn't clarify any further. I pondered something for a minute and said, "You're one of my first friends in a long time."

"I am?"

"Since I had a family."

"You still have a family. They're just not here anymore," he retorted, surprising me with the sudden, gentle earnestness of his delivery.

Involuntarily, I got up and moved to him, sitting on the spot next to him. Then I scooted into the side of his body and linked his arm with mine. He stiffened, but didn't move his arm away.

We sat quietly for a few minutes, sinking into an oasis of silence, the feel of one another enough to let me get lost a little. A heavy, dense air settled into the dark entrance, as it often does when things were changing and the people changing with those things were trying to wrap their heads around it.

"Tell me what you're thinking right now," Killua requested quietly. At that, my eyes focused on something so far away it could only be the past, or perhaps, the future. I could barely form a thought in my own mind, each one on the verge of forming before his thumb would swipe absentmindedly across my hand where our hands were almost touching, and then sweep away the thought with his touch.

I gave a little sighing laugh, and it somehow sounded so weary and so wistful at the same time. "I'm thinking of things I shouldn't be thinking of."

"Like what?"

The laugh I out let out now sounded more sad than anything else, and I hated that.

"Tell me," Killua urged. "I'm quite a big deal. What do you want? A visit to the Eiffel Tower? A vacation in the Caribbean? Someone like me in line at Starchucks who takes forever to decide what they want to drop dead?"

I looked at him, and somehow, I knew what I was going to say would break the moment a little bit, and I steeled myself for it. "I wanted to kiss you in Meteor City."

And break it did. Killua looked away, but still managed to make a derisive laughing sound. "You 'had a Death wish'?"

I laughed, happy to hear him joke. "Are we back to all that Death crap?"

The smile he wore slipped off his face, and I somehow knew that his next words were going to break my heart a little bit. I steeled myself for that as well. "What…almost happened in Meteor City was a mistake." His expression softened incrementally and almost to himself, he added, "You don't want to kiss me. I'd break your heart."

And break my heart he did. It was an unmistakably a human moment; his voice screamed of the loneliness that I felt that night I spent in his room. Almost like my earlier confession, but amplified a million times.

"Well, you don't know," I teased, feeling the sudden need to change the subject. Without separating our arms, I forced him to stand with me. "Maybe I'd break your heart first."

He was silent for a moment before breaking into a beatific, boyish grin that transformed his whole face. "You're going to keep me on my toes."

_Oh, yeah_. I rolled my eyes as we walked along the sidewalk. _I wish_.

* * *

My master once told me, _Life is like fire. It consumes to exist, and it relies on something else to feed it._

When I first heard that, I was like, _Whaaat? _

That was just how that man rolled, though. Facts hidden in fantasies, and fantasies hidden in facts. He couldn't be direct. He'd deliver a sentence, confuse you to hell and back with it, and then leave the words hanging in the corner of your mind. Waiting for the moment when you'd finally be mature enough—or just open your mind, really—to crack up the code and understand the meaning.

After dropping Killua off at the auction building, I went to visit my brother. In a coherent and presentable way, I stood alone in the graveyard. The rain had stopped. The wind was falling on my back, drying the moisture off my clothes, and causing my hair to sway in every direction. I passed my gaze over the letters written on the grave before me.

_Sam Kudo_.

The grave itself was simple. No meaningful quotes or decoration to mark the person under the ground as the special person he was. I moved to sit on the curb in front of the discreet headstone. I needed to pay my respects in the only way I knew how. I shifted slightly in an attempt to get comfortable. Then my eyelids fell and I started to remember.

I'm not sure of how long it had been since the last time I came to this place. I was not sure when I started doing this—revisiting past memories of the person lost. Letting them play before my eyes like an old movie. It had been such a long time. I struck again by the guilt I felt. I was supposed to restore his memory more often, not leave it neglected in the back of my mind.

The images of the derelict past began to play. I relived them all. All of them. Emotions shifted, barely registering before moving on to the next one. Hurt. Love. Anger. Happiness. Sadness. Empathy. It all came and went.

I ran my fingers through the mud on the grave and its coldness somehow was exhilarating. My gaze drifted to the name again. I always felt jealous of his name. I could still remember myself running to my parent's room and asking them to take me to the 'Ministry of Names' to change my name to an Italian one, just like Sam's. I smiled tiredly at the memorial.

_Hey, Sam_, I thought. _I miss you so much_.

The light slowly disappeared as the clouds moved to cover the moon.

Death. It wasn't something that I would commonly think about. From my point of view, we live our lives giving ourselves purpose in this world. We are born, we learn, we gain, and on many occasions, we love. Many people live ordinary lives as ordinary people until they are cruelly ripped away from the world leaving the people who have many years ahead of them grieving.

But that's a one-sided story—a side where Death is the terrible, unnatural consequence.

I still didn't understand what my master truly meant by what he said, but he was right.

Life _is_ like fire. It does consume to exist, and that's why it can only exist for a finite amount of time. If you let life go forever, then life will devour whatever it relies on. Just like fire. The opposite of life is not death. Life, and everything in the world, is _defined_ by death. When you make death cease to exist, then life ceases to exist.

I stood up and brushed the dirt from my dark jeans, my eyes lingering at Sam's name. _I love you_. The breeze ruffled my hair just like he used to. _I'm going to find him for you_.

* * *

It was three in the morning, few minutes before the sunrise. Through my way back to the auction building, my phone rang loudly. I frowned at Kurapika's flashing name on my screen. "Hello?"

"Yuki, are you okay?" His voice pieced the calm air in the street.

"Uhh…yeah? Why would I be?" My frown deepened when I heard a several relieved sighs through the line. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Yes. Where are you?" He sounded uncharacteristically urgent.

_What's going on?_

"I'm heading towards the building. I'll be there in two minutes."

There was a strange silence. "You mean you are… already here?"

I pouted in confusion. "Yes, what's the matter?"

When my gaze drifted to the entrance of the auction building, I found the answer I needed.

Two men stepped out, their expressions sharp, bold, and concentrated. The taller man was wearing a navy Japanese Gi and he looked very stern. His brilliant hair was wavy and down to his elbows, the same purplish-silver hair as the old man standing beside him. The geezer had a hunched back, a pair of bushy, winged eyebrows and a long thin mustache. Their intense green eyes as powerful as ever, and uneasily familiar.

"You mean," Kurapika mumbled, seemingly to himself more than me. "You can see the Zaoldyecks?"

"The Zaoldyecks?"

I looked at the men again.

_The… Zaoldyecks._

I stopped in my tracks when I found them facing me, barely ten feet separating us. All of a sudden, darkness enslaved my soul. I felt totally separated from everything. Holding all my breath inside. Once before. Once again. The world around me shut out.

They finally caught me staring at them, and instantly recognized the hate that I was holding beneath my eyes, because they stopped walking as well.

The darkness spread.

_Well… crap_.


	16. The Intruder

**I do not own Hunter X Hunter.**

* * *

_**16. The Intruder  
**_

* * *

I felt like I was moving in slow motion. Like I was moving in slow motion and everything around was moving frightfully fast. I just wanted to go back to when things were normal. The feeling you get when you look around and feel the friction from everyone's bodies as they move at a speed that you can't. It's as if your whole body is under water. Your limbs are slowed by the lack of gravity, yet your body feels somehow lighter.

_Their eyes are watching you._

I know.

_They are examining every movement you make._

I know.

_They are a lot more stronger than you._

_…_

I know.

I was losing myself to the dominant thoughts in my head.

I suddenly wanted to blame everything in my life on these two. It was stupid, it was dumb, it was irrational, but I could not explain it. I wanted a confrontation. They would not remember me, but I couldn't not do it. I couldn't turn around now. I wanted to confront them, ask them who hired them to do that to my family. I wanted to blame everything on them. Selfishly. Stupidly. Senseless. Really.

The imperfect appearance of mine was so pervasive it suffocated any self-assurance and confidence I had, no matter how I considered my strength or how much training and experience I'd accumulated. Their superiority was overwhelming.

_Turn around._

No._  
_

It was as if I was on a boat without oars. Drifting off into an unfamiliar place where I didn't belong in. Doubting the abilities of my limbs to swim my way back home. Before now, my fear was being vulnerable. Their ability to possibly tear apart my insides at any moment was enough to keep me running towards them. However, this dangerous anticipation made my insides come alive. It took away my fear and gave me hope. But more importantly, for the first time in my life, instead of wanting to run, I had this challenge which gave me a reason to stay. To fight.

_You are not making any sense. Turn around._

It was too late.

I was standing right in front of them. My bony, trembling fingers wrapped around the knife behind my back in a slow and uncertain sort of way.

_You are going to die._

Stop.

The past kept coming back, and it started to get annoying. I saw references or things that triggered memories and this made me angry. It didn't even make me sad anymore. It just made me angry. It was so infuriating. I had a feeling that I was going to have to confront a lot of things soon. I didn't know if I would be ready for it.

Their eyes were fierce. Not an ounce of disturbance in them.

It was just one of the worst feelings I had experienced. It just created a downward spiral of emotions.

I took the first step towards them.

They didn't move.

The second step was harder. I tightened my hold on the knife and brushed off the negative expectations.

They didn't move.

It was the perfect moment for the imperfect decision. Irrational decision.

_You are so dead._

I prepared myself to attack.

"Man, stop glaring at me like that! The reason why I dumped you was perfectly rational, Yuki."

I blinked. _What?_

"Now you are basically making a fool of yourself! What are you trying to prove?"

Where the hell was that voice coming from? I searched for it. The Zaoldyecks' faces showed true amazement as well. The voice came from behind them.

A young man around my age was standing bluntly, his eyes defiantly focused on me as they showed a kind of strange betrayal. "Look I know you do want to kill me now, but I suggest we talk about this like grownups! You know I don't want to hurt you!" The young stranger walked towards me with confident strides. He then ecstatically looked at the two men. At the _Zaoldyecks_. "Gentlemen, I'm terribly sorry for my girlfriend, er…I mean ex-girlfriend's misbehavior which was probably confusing to you. We are going through a rocky patch right now. I hope you excuse us."

Silence tattooed its crude overflow into the monotony of my senses. I stood numbly still trying to figure out what was happening before my eyes. Who was this guy? Why did he do that? What did he exactly want from me? It was all sixes and sevens in my head right now.

He grabbed my hand and dragged me along with him. I was too shocked to fight him. My brain needed to shut up, the thoughts needed to stop creating a storm in my mind. My heart needed to let go and my body needed to rest.

I followed him until we were finally in an awfully dark street.

"Heavens help your sanity," he began. His cold statement went right through me and I sensed the barriers were back in position.

I felt like reality had finally slapped me in the face and I came back to my senses. I rudely take in the sight of the stranger who was standing before me in repose. "What the hell do you think you are doing?" I shouted.

The lively expression he showed earlier was replaced by a blank one. An extremely bratty one. "I don't know…saving your life I suppose?"

I don't believe there were enough words that could express how thoroughly enraged I was at that mere moment. "Who the hell do you think you are!"

"What were you thinking when you wanted to strike them? Are you looking for a heroic suicidal moment?" He took one step in my direction. The street light made his features more distinct to me. His sharp features wearing a scowl that was only matched by the feral fierceness in his sapphire eyes. He pulled down the hood of his sweatshirt and shook out his longish hair dyed a dark blue.

"It's not your damn business! I'm going back!" I quickly walked passed him, uncharacteristic fury showing in my movement.

He gripped my shoulder and I felt my eyes widening at how stiff his fingers were. "I'm afraid I'm not allowing you to."

I slapped his hand and fiercely pushed his body back off me. "Excuse me? You know, I'm about ready to punch someone's face in and, believe me, you don't want it to be yours!"

"It's not like I'm not allowing you to kill yourself because I, God forbid, care about your safety, you little thing! I merely have strict orders from that blond boss of yours to do so."

"Little thing?" I exploded dramatically. Totally ignoring the mentioning of Kurapika and focusing more on the nickname he gave me.

He wrinkled his nose as he eyed me in disgust. "Oh stop being so dramatic. I understand you are positively emotional after visiting your dead brother but that doesn't mean you should go and beg for your death like that."

I froze and my muscles sagged in terrific shock. My knees almost buckled. "You…how did you know that I visited my brother? I haven't told anyone about this!"

_Was this brat stalking me?_

"Holy shit! Of course not," he answered my thoughts, basically increasing my paranoia. "You are far more twisted than I ever realized."

The atmosphere had changed so swiftly from being teasing to horribly uncomfortable. Feeling sick in the pit of my stomach, I managed to ask in a gentler tone, "Who are you?"

"I'm Jei."

* * *

_The Spiders… And the seven deadly sins…_

_His whole life was revolved around those two things and both of them were related in one way or another. How was it possible for someone to have more than one deadly sin? More than two and three? Kurapika had always asked himself that question. His family had always said that he was an extraordinary kid, but he never knew that he would grow up to be so unbelievably extraordinary. _

_The seven sins… _

_He was alone in his office, thinking about the possibility of having all the seven sins inside of him._

_The seven sins were Wrath, Envy, Pride, __Greed, __Lust, Gluttony, and Sloth. He started to think logically. _

_Wrath? _

_Of course he had this. His glorious rage had never left his heart for five years. _

_Envy? _

_He always hated to accept the fact that the Spiders once had something that belonged to him. Something that belonged to his tribe. They possessed the most important thing; the scarlet eyes. Which was his property.  
_

_What about Pride? _

_If he hadn't have enough of pride left in his soul, he wouldn't have endangered his life with that heavy promise of the chain._

_Greed? _

_He experienced the feeling of being a murderer, and he quite hated it, but he always knew that killing Ubo wasn't sufficient. If he had the chance to stab all the Spider's hearts, he wouldn't hesitate a second.  
_

_Lust and Gluttony. Now he was not sure about those. But__ Sloth definitely wasn't one of his sins._

_Four out of seven. He didn't know if that was a good omen or not. He wasn't really a religious person._

_His phone snatched him out of his trance. "Yes, Nostrad-san?"_

_"Oh, hey, Kurapika. My apologizes, I know we were supposed to have a meeting, but I had to travel with Neon to Tokyo. I need you to take care of few things while I'm gone." _

_"Sure."_

_"Listen, Kurapika, I hired a new kid."_

_"A new kid? Why?"_

_Kurapika could hear Neon babbling though the line as he tried to hear the voice of his boss with effort. "The boy's name is Jei Deacon. He is fourteen. He came all the way from The United States in order to be your right hand. I believe he is going to be useful for you."_

_"With all due respect, sir, my team here are doing their jobs in a perfect way. I do not need any help."_

_"Kurapika, this boy is not ordinary."_

_Kurapika narrowed his eyes. "How so?"_

_"He is…a psychic. He has this unnatural ability. I wouldn't have believed if I hadn't witnessed it. He is able to compensate the ability that my daughter had lost." _

_"A psychic? Would you mind to explain?"_

_"You will find out yourself. He is now on his way to your office. I will be much obliged if you welcome him in this instant. I'm actually spending a lot of money on this kid, but I don't believe it will be a waste."_

_"How am I supposed to find about his ability?"_

_"I sent him down to your office for a test. I will ask Senritsu to bring him right now."_

_"O…kay, sir."_

_Kurapika closed the phone lid as he waited for the knocking on the door, but to his surprise, the boy didn't bother to follow the social norms as he opened the door and stepped inside. Kurapika coughed before he moved to greet him.  
_

_"It's my pleasure to work with you." Kurapika extended his hand politely but retracted it when he didn't see the boy move a muscle. His hair hung in his eyes as he gave the office and Kurapika a cursory glance.  
_

_"Where is the food? I'm starving."_

_Kurapika refused to be deterred by Jei's predictable teenage attitude. "I'll ask my assistant, Senritsu, to take you to a fine restaurant after this meeting. I'm afraid you have to stay here with me for the next minutes."_

_"You want me to prove to you that Nostrad's claims are fake or not. I get it."_

_"No," Kurapika answered. "I simply want to know what I'm dealing with. I have a test for you. If you fail at this test on purpose, I'll know. If you pass it legitimately I'll know."_

_Jei was quiet then. "What am I supposed to do?"_

_ Kurapika revealed a television screen behind the curtain. He pressed a button at the end of the line and the set came to life, brightening to the display a different man's face. "One of these men broke into the auction building two years ago and stabbed one of my colleagues in his bed. I want you to tell me which man it was."_

_Jei rolled his eyes but started observing the awkward gestures and defiant glares coming from the television screen. "I can't see some sort of video or __anything?"_

_"Do you need that?" Kurapika asked coolly. Then he waited a few minutes while the boy studied each of their faces.  
_

_ Jei finally turned to face the blond young man looking irritated. "So this is a trick, isn't it?"  
_

_"Why do you think it is?"_

_Jei pointed at the screen. "Three, Five and Seven are all guilty in this crime. Three was the main perpetrator and five and seven were his accomplices. You really should have made your question more clear." Kurapika shivered a little from the minor chill when the boy passed the test with first marks, but Kurapika wanted to believe that it was a coincidence. _

_He eyed the boy in challenge. "Can you tell me why they killed him?"  
_

_"They knew him. They were his friends, or to be more clear, his business partners. They killed him because they believed he betrayed them when he decided to work in this place. They thought that the victim will go around exposing all of their filthy secrets by working here."  
_

_Kurapika finally found his voice. "So you do read minds."_

_Jei straightened his shoulders and stood ready to leave. "I assume I can go now."_

_Kurapika studied him for a second, looking for any sort of supernatural inhuman trait in his body. "Yes," he muttered. Then he gathered himself and went to put the curtain back.  
_

_The boy stopped to glimpse slyly at Kurapika who looked like he was still in a startled mode. "Oh and by the way, Sloth is definitely one of your sins. Don't try to convince yourself that it isn't."_

* * *

I let my eyes inspect the boy who stood before me with his hands crossed, willing to gather the thoughts in my head in a systematic way. "Kurapika had brought you here," I started suspiciously, shaking my head thoroughly. "But…he didn't tell me about this."

Jei cocked an eyebrow with compassionate superiority. "You think you're so goddamn significant to know about all of his work plans? Get over yourself."

I eyed him carefully and sedately, brushing off the idea of reaching his throat and ripping it out. "You knew that I was in the graveyard. Are you going to tell me how?"

"Mm…no. You'll eventually know by yourself." With that, he rolled up his head to his left side and I did the same, only to see that Killua had finally showed up to where we were standing. All my earlier anger, all my sense of dread, vanished when I found a hint of worry in his eyes. Jei smirked in realization that I couldn't fathom.

Killua approached me and he didn't seem to notice my other companion. "You are…ugh I have no words! What were you thinking when you hang up on Kurapika like that? Do not tell me you were planning to be so drastic and fight them!"

I impatiently threw away my bag and met his confused gaze. "Look who is here. Mr. it-was-a-mistake himself!" I heard Jei snickering and shot him a glare.

Killua eyed me with what appeared to be resentment. "You are still angry about that. Very well, let's talk about this later. Will you answer my question now?"

"Do I have to?"

He sighed. "You're being difficult on purpose and it's irritating. Are you trying to hassle me?" If I wasn't so maddeningly emotional at that moment, I would laugh at the way the conversation had turned.

"I will if I want to. You can hit a woman?"

"I will if I want to!"

Jei's loud snicker took me back to reality, and to the fantasy of going up to him and beating him mercilessly. He finally sobered and opened his eyes cunningly. "Dude…love. Love is twisted."

Killua slightly retreated to observe the young boy and looked at me for explanation. I indicated at Jei with obvious boredom. "He is…sent here by Kurapika."

"Okay whatever," Killua said sounding a little annoyed. "Stay out of this."

"I believe it is only appropriate to introduce yourself at the very least," Jei demanded with a smile, not affected by Killua's rude behavior.

Killua seemed slightly surprised. "Yeah I don't care about being appropriate. I really suggest you stay out of this." He then focused his attention on me. "Now tell me what happened out there. Did they harm you in any way?"

"No," I answered. My fingers moved across my forehead to massage my temples in a futile effort to stem the headache that was threatening to overwhelm me. "Nothing happened."

"They were not even thinking about hurting her," Jei suddenly added. "None of the Zaoldyecks is considering that option, but she is gotta be careful." His cold eyes met Killua's. "They are widespread in this area."

Killua's eyes widened and narrowed, almost like a man's fist flexing and shutting. "Who the hell are you?"

"Someone you don't want around this place."

"What does that mean?"

Jei smirked at Killua's sudden change in attitude and prepared to leave the place. "I mean it is to your own advantage to be nice with me," he replied calmly before his form gradually started to disappear in dark street. "We will meet a lot from now on. This is going to be really interesting." He paused and flashed us a childlike smile. "I'm sure I'll see you both later."

"What was that?" I asked Killua when we were finally left alone.

He shook his head pointedly grabbing my bag from the floor. "Nothing, nothing," he stated quietly while placing the bag gently on my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

I remembered why I had been mad at him earlier and instinctively went back to my stubborn mode. "Why does it matter to you?" He leaned into my line of view, not liking that I was trying to pretend that he wasn't there.

"Because I freaking care okay?"

I felt myself backtracking at his words and I hated it. "I am okay."

He stared off the space and he looked almost nervous about what he was going to say. "You're crazy." He sighed. "For a moment, I thought that I had lost you."

I smiled shakily. Screw my stubbornness and lack of self restraint. It was amazing how the simplest of words from him made the anguish evaporate like it had never been there. "You'll never lose me. I assure you. Who else is going to bring you hell if I left?"

His grin was hard to resist. He drew closer to my body and reached for one of my clenched hands which he took in his. "Are we still friends?" he murmured, holding it carefully as it relaxed. My heart raced as he refused to let me go, his entrancing gaze dared me to look anywhere else but I could not.

I met his worried gaze and swallowed. "Erm…of course." There we stood, him holding my hand, our faces close but our eyes wide with fear, anticipation, or even possible happiness. And we were both horridly frozen.

"Come on. Let's give you some dry clothes." His smile was beautiful. So unprejudiced, fearless, intense, powerful, yet vulnerable. The look in his eyes told me he was relentless, yet compassionate. Cruel, but sensitive. He confused me with all these mixed signals. But the truth is…I liked to be confused.


	17. Hide and Seek

**I do not own Hunter X Hunter.**

* * *

_**17. Hide and Seek**_

I almost chocked when Akaia's arms encircled my neck as she hugged me with all her might. But the girl's hyper mode could only produce this kind of greeting. I was astonished when I found Leorio, Kurapika, and Akaia waiting impatiently for us when I stepped inside the building. I didn't know that my reckless action could reflect this kind of worry. I learned that Akaia was Leorio's fiancée who had an excessively friendly personality. It matched Leorio's perfectly.

And I'm not being sarcastic at all.

She finally let go off my shoulders to stare at me with those sparkling dark eyes of hers. "You are so coming to the wedding! I'm going to bring my girlfriends here and we will give you a makeover!" I couldn't decide whether I should feel good about this or not. For a moment it seemed like she was making fun of me, but I pushed away the thought.

"Aw! Are you serious?" I tried to be as passionate as possible. Killua sensed the mockery in my tone and suppressed a smile.

"Of course! We'll take you shopping tomorrow! I always felt like I wanted a little sister. Is it wonderful the twists and turns life took in order to bring us together! Promise me that you will come with Killua!"

"I can't be more thrilled, Akaia! I'm happy to know you too. You are absolutely," I stopped a second to find the right word, "…awesome." I complimented. Ugh. Was that too much? I felt like I needed to brush my teeth after saying something so sickly sweet.

"Thank you! You're so sweet!"

Kurapika stepped to stand in front of me, interrupting Akaia's way. "Yuki," he said softly. He crossed the small distance between us and put his hands on my shoulders. I froze. "Are you okay?"

"Y‒Yes."

His warm smile was reassuring. "Thank God. Do not do this to us again."

At that moment itself, I felt completely ridiculous about what I was about to do earlier. "I won't. Don't worry."

"Killua," Kurapika said.

"Yes?"

"Perhaps you and Yuki should exchange phone numbers in order to prevent future occurrences of this nature."

"Erm…sure." I handed my phone. I took Killua's in exchange and quickly hit entered my own number, aware of everyone's staring. We exchanged phones again and I noted the smug air radiating off Killua.

"Everyone." Kurapika looked at all of us before he gestured at Jei. "Let's go to my office. I have something, er…I mean someone to introduce."

Jei stiffened and made a face. "Is this really necessary?"

"Yes." Kurapika led the way and we followed. Jei didn't care for Kurapika, who was his boss. I could easily see that. He disliked me too. He obviously disliked Killua, and he didn't seem to pay much attention to Gon's attempts in having a normal friendly conversation with him.

Most of the folks walked to the elevator. I gave them an apologetic smile before I moved to the stairs. Killua's eyes were fixed on me and I could tell that he wanted to join me but Leorio was talking to him and he seemed to be seriously into the conversation he was forcing Killua to listen to.

The winding staircase was dimly lit by candles recessed into the walls and smelled musty and exciting. Once I reached the foot of the stairs, I ran my hand along the cool wall till my fingers came in contact with the knob of the door. I gave the knob a little push and the shadowy office came into view. Of course, everyone was there before me.

I realized that I've never really observed the beauty of Kurapika's office before now. Perhaps because I never really got the chance. The room was elegant. A heavy red velvet curtain ran across the width of one wall and in front of it sat a wooden desk and a burgundy armchair both showing signs of wear. Filing cabinets of assorted sizes lined the room and above each were stacks of video tapes neatly arranged first alphabetically and then by year. I smiled as I took in the familiar room. Nothing could get my blood going more than the sight of it.

Jei glared around at the stone walls annoyed, not reveling in the wonderfulness of the office. "Hurry up. I'm sleepy," he sneered coldly.

"This is Jei Deacon. He is going to be my main assistant from now on," Kurapika started formally. I frowned at this. This brat was going to be like a boss to me? It was too much to believe. "His ability in reading the criminals mind will be positively handy. Especially when it's going to be used to check the minds of the professional killers that we hired." His stare first landed on Killua for a moment before it moved for the rest of us.

This hadn't been expected. This brat could actually read minds? I remembered his retort to Killua. "_Someone you don't want around this place._" And I was scared, I didn't want to admit it. I dealt with apathy before and this was nothing like I had experienced.

Killua laughed. He even had to sit in order to calm himself.

"You okay?" Gon muttered, full concern written on his face.

"I'm okay but." He let out a long sigh as he eyed us with a smile. "It's just…Irony. This is incredibly ironic. As if life decided to leave the rest of the world to focus on me. As if it intends to beat me into some sort of dirty ironic submission." I unwillingly found myself smiling at his weird current state. Gon blinked seemingly worried about his best-friend's mentality.

"Don't worry," Jei replied quietly. "Just pretend I'm not even here. I assure you that this is going to be really interesting." He finished with a smirk.

"Jei." Kurapika stole the boy's attention that was given to Killua.

"Mm?"

"You are going to be living here, Jei, and I won't have you making threats against the others that do. It's evident that you can read minds or can at least profile people but using that ability to hurt or scare others will not be tolerated. Do you understand me?" I had never heard Kurapika's voice so fierce and a part of me was glad I wasn't alone in the room with the seer.

"Or what. You're going to kill me?"

"No." Kurapika's voice was calm and patient. "But I promise there are going to be some extremely severe consequences for you to handle. Nostrad-san must have been utterly kind with you but he will immediately change his opinion once I say a bad word about your behavior here. You don't want this to happen."

Jei rolled his eyes and for the first time he sighed. "Geez fine."

Exasperated, I checked the time on the large clock that hung behind the child who was beginning to grate my patience. It was half three in the morning. I whirled my head at the small window. The sky was intensely black it brought nostalgic feelings.

Akaia reached her hand to fondly brush Jei's navy hair. "You are so cute!" He jerked back and gawked at her in surprise, she didn't flinch under his blatant stare. "You are coming to our wedding right? I need you to tell me when will my future husband decide to flee away."

Jei locked his bored gaze with Leorio's who shrugged in response. "He's already considering it." I laughed at Akaia's comic look as she eyed Leorio for explanation.

Leorio shook his hands in front of his face defensively. "WHAT! NO SWEETHEART I SWEAR I'M NOT!"

"Jei!" Kurapika warned.

Jei pff-ed and dropped his weight at one of the chairs. "Okay, okay."

"There's something that I need to take care of," Kurapika stated. "Don't go anywhere I'll be right back. Leorio and Akaia, feel free to leave, you are not obligated to be here." He smiled politely and then he left the room.

Gon sat on the velvet carpet and sighed. "I'm sleepy."

Killua took off his shoes and threw his hand in his pocket to pull out a huge bar of dark chocolate before he moved to make himself comfortable next to Gon on the floor.

A thought occurred to me. "What about we pass the time by playing a game?"

A profound, awkward silence followed my words. I blushed horribly, thankful for the room's dim, blue lighting. "This would be nice," Gon finally said.

I joined the two lazy best-friends on the floor and crossed my legs. "Have you ever played 'Never Have I Ever'?

They simultaneously shook their heads, obviously interested.

"It is such an amusing way to expose other people's dirty little secrets." I winked at them.

"Sheesh! You can't be serious!" Jei whimpered.

"Oh?" Gon eagerly bent forward, placing his elbows on his thighs as he held his head in both hands. "How do we play it?"

"Well…" I snatched Killua's giant chocolate bar and divided into three parts. I broke it into separate squares and placed them onto my napkin. Then I gestured for them to do the same with their portions. Mystified, they imitated me. "Actually, it's a drinking game, but this will do the work." I coughed trying to ignore Leorio's creepy looks that immediately started when I mentioned the work 'drinking.' "Anyway, here's how we'll play it. I'll say something that I've never done, and if any of you have done it, you take one piece. We take turns until all the chocolate is gone. The loser is the person with the most pieces."

"Aha," Killua hummed to himself. I swear I saw him counting the chocolate squares on my napkin to make sure we both had the same amount.

I couldn't help shooting him a deathly glare. "Are you in?"

He nodded a bit apprehensively. "Yeah, yeah I am."

Gon was organizing his squares to be used into equal trains or lines. Jei nudged Gon's shoulder with his knee. "Hey, would you give me some if you win?" Gon winked at him in response and gave him a thumb up.

I turned back to Killua and smirked. "We don't have to play if you're worried about something, Killua."

"I don't," he replied hurriedly, exchanging a bizarre glance with Jei. "I'm an open book. Go ahead."

"Alright!" I said cheerfully. "_Never have I ever_ smoked weed."

"Never have I ever smoked weed," Gon repeated.

"Yeah me neither," Killua almost whined. I knew that he wished he had smoked weed before so he could eat a chocolate square.

My eyebrows naturally shot up. "Honestly? I can believe Gon hasn't, but you? Seriously?"

"Chocolate is my only high," he answered, as if it explained everything. Which it did in a way. "Okay, my turn. Never have I ever lied to a friend."

I took the first square. Killua glared at Gon in surprise when the latter took his first square as well. "You lied to me before?" Gon shook his head slightly and mouthed 'Leorio' to Killua who smiled mischievously in return. "Gotcha."

"My turn!" I cheered. "Never have I ever slept in the nude," I countered.

"Oh no! Not that!" Jei complained and face-palmed. "I didn't sign for this! You don't know the amount of perverseness that's going to be floating in everyone's mind with that statement of yours!"

I foolishly grinned back at him. "I'm sorry Jei. I should have warned you."

Killua hungrily took his first square. I flushed crimson. Jei rolled his eyes at me. "UGH! Here we go!"

Gon folded his arms and stared at Killua in wonder. "How could you do that?"

"It's comfortable," Killua replied boringly, licking his fingers clean. "Right Leorio?" he called out.

The tall engaged-man held up his goblet of wine in delight. "Positive man. Positive!" He then whirled his gaze to his visibly uncomfortable fiancée and smiled.

"Jesus Christ, someone please change this topic before I shoot a bullet through my head," Jei said.

Gon nervously fidgeted in his seat. "Never have I ever been arrested!"

"…"

"…"

No one reacted.

"Wow," I finally commented a little shocked. "We are such good people."

"Yeah don't be so sure about that." Jei crookedly smirked at Killua who snorted and ignored him.

I decided to jump a whole another notch with this. "Never have I ever…been to a strip club?"

My jaw dropped when Killua took the second square. "It was for an assignment. Five years ago there was this asshole who owed me money, and I had to go there for payment," he explained plainly.

I couldn't control it. My jaw dropped again and turned positively green. "Five years ago? You were twelve for God's sake! How did you get in there?"

Killua snickered like a little child. "I had my ways."

I noticed Gon passing few of his squares secretly to Jei who was stuffing them into his mouth like there was no tomorrow. "HEY!" I yelled at them. "That's cheating!"

"But I thought we were finished with all of this," Gon replied lamely, his mouth full.

"Alright, alright. It's just you and me," Killua said abruptly, changing the subject. I didn't really like the trace of dry humor that invaded his face as if he knew exactly what to ask. He brought himself nearer to whisper in my ear. "Never have I ever been attracted to a complete jerk."

I sighed with exasperation. "That's not fair," I said crossly, taking a square of chocolate.

He chuckled low. "Yes, something you learn about life before you reach the age of five." I made a strangled sound in my throat. He looked at my squares. "Now we are even, but you practically lost."

"Alright. Let me challenge you in something else."

His eyes popped open at my tone. "Challenge me?"

"Oh you just hit his weakness point," Leorio stated.

"Yes, I wanna challenge you."

"Challenge me eh?" Killua replied. His voice had become somewhat distant and wistful. "Fine by me. What exactly do you have in mind?"

"Hide and Seek!" I blurted out.

It could've been my imagination, but Gon almost chocked on his chocolates.

Killua stifled a giggle. "Really? Couldn't you pick something more childish?" he joked.

"Being childish and being childlike are two different things," Jei asserted smoothly. "Luckily, it doesn't play any part in your mental capabilities."

"Thank you, Jei." I turned back to Killua. "Are you afraid to lose?"

"Of course not," he said suddenly enthusiastic. "Let's do this."

"Bad idea, Yuki. Bad idea indeed," Leorio joined in. "Think logically. Like who challenges a Zao ‒"

"AAAAHHHHH!" Gon shouted. Out of the blue, he jumped at Leorio whose eyes widened as he was forced to the floor.

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

Akaia, Killua, I and even Jei blinked. I was torn between shrieking or laughing as the two of them lay sprawled out on the floor.

"What the hell Gon?" Gon lifted his head up from where he had been strewn across Leorio's chest. He stared down at Leorio who stared back, his blue eyes huge in his face.

"Nothing! I just love you Leorio!" Gon explained. Leorio stared confusion evident on his face. Gon finally sprang to his feet.

Killua closed his eyes in annoyance. "Damn you old man," he said.

"Yeah seriously watch the tongue," Jei added.

"Anyway," Killua cut in addressing me. "My challenge for you, Yuki, is to hide for one hour. If you can do that successfully, I'll admit that you are one of the greatest hunters I've ever encountered."

"Oooo," Jei commented. "You are so full of yourself pretty boy."

"Zip it," Killua ordered. "So, Yuki, are you in?"

Kurapika suddenly piped up and seated himself next to Akaia. "You are amazingly loud. What's going on?"

"I'm in. Just set the rules," I demanded.

"The rules are," Killua moved to put on his shoes. "One, you have to stay on the building property. You can't leave the premises to go romping off across the city. Two, you have to keep hidden for exactly one hour. If you are tagged before time is up, you'll lose."

I held my hand up high. "Hold on. I have a condition."

"Which is?"

"You are not allowed to ask for help. Capisce?"

He fought back a smirk. "Capisce. I won't even need it."

"Perfect. Now blindfold?" I held out my hands to Leorio and he gave me his sunglasses that hang round his neck. I slipped them over Killua's piercing eyes. "Ready?" I asked menacingly, his white head inclined toward my direction.

"Yeah," he answered steadily. I was squirming in my shoes.

"Good luck." I nearly jumped out of my skin when Gon tucked my pinky finger.

"We are going for a walk," Leorio said holding Akaia's hand before they both took off.

"60, 59, 58…" Killua announced.

I immediately yanked off my jacket and ratty boots to reveal my sleeveless white t-shirt and white socks. I also took off my long golden necklace in case it tried to hamper my running. I threw them into a little pile on the floor. Jei didn't react at all. On the other hand, Kurapika and Gon had suddenly whipped around to focus intently on the ceiling. I felt a bit embarrassed, but there was no time for modesty.

"…50!"

I was off like a shot, running down like a maniac in the dimly lit hallway. Never in a million years would I have imagined that I'd be playing hide-and-seek right here, right now, of all times and places, to prove myself for this boy.

"_Whoops_!"

Leorio let out a startled yelp as I barreled right into him, knocking him down for the second time this day. I landed hard on top of the man, and for a split second, his body grew limp, his goofy eyes were uncertain as he blinked up at me.

"Oh shit. I'm sorry Leorio!" I whispered as I helped him up, smoothing down his neat black suit.

"I‒I'm alright. Don't worry about it, Yuki," he replied waspishly, moving away from my hands.

"30!" I heard Killua calling out, oblivious to the commotion.

I bowed my head in apology to Leorio and Akaia before I started dashing to the doors. I didn't have much time.

_One left, one right, another right__._

This was my territory. I couldn't bring my mind to forget about the corners of this building. From the first moment I came to this place, every detail was committed to memory – every sound, every turn, and every step.

My socked feet barely made a sound against the cold floor. _Underground lot, elevator, twenty-seven floors, nine corners, _I mentally chanted as I sprinted.

I needed to get to that elevator_. _Yes, desperate measures were called this time. I would not be able to beat Killua unless I surprised him about something like taking the elevator, even if it was against my will.

I passed two bathrooms. For some reason, the sight struck me as strange. Simple, civilian segregation seemed out of place here. For a moment, I considered hiding out in the women's room. _Nah, too obvious. _Nothing was going to stop Killua from looking in there. Moreover, I didn't waste those previous ten seconds for nothing.

I turned another corner, grasping Leorio's car key tightly in my fist.

* * *

_The church bells at city center chimed brighter, the children's laughs that could be heard from the opened window were wilder and more carefree and the smell of the brisk winter air was intoxicating. The Kudos had never been away from home at Christmas in their life. They believed that sacrificing these treasured delights kills the holiday spirit, but Sam had thought differently about this matter. He believed it was part of what it meant to be truly grown-up and he quite hated to accept this. He didn't like to accept that this was probably his last Christmas in this house, and that this could be the last time he would be able to play Hide and Seek with his little sister_,_ the game that he considered to be their way of spending the holidays together._ _Or as Yuki liked to call it. Hide and Seek was their 'thing.'_

_"Yuuuuki," Sam called in a sing-song voice, stepping inside Yuki's chamber. The room was decorated with illustrations from 'Little Red Riding Hood' and colorful frills. Different kinds of stuffed toys and books were scattered all over the floor in an attempt from the girl to impede her brother's way in finding her. He smiled tenderly at the gesture. "Where are you Yuki? Are you hiding under the bed?" _

_He quickly bent over to search under the lavender-colored bed. But no one was in there. _

_"You know I'll find you, poppet." He opened the closet and ran a hand over the clothes on the hangers. "No matter where you are hiding." His fingers passed through a soft clothing that took place in the bottom of the closet. He knelt to examine it only to find out that it was Yuki's Christmas sock. The girl stubbornly refused to hang it by the fireplace right where it belonged and insisted that she wanted to hang it on her door's knob for a mysterious reason. Sam's curiosity took over and he found himself sliding his hand inside the sock as he pulled out a small paper and unfolded it. _

_He struggled quite a bit in reading his sister's prosaic handwriting but succeeded at the end. _

_"Dear Santa,_

_I hope that you are doing well in the North Pole. I have been a good girl this year. I brush my teeth twice a day, I eat lots of veggies each meal, I helped shovel snow, and I've been practicing so hard for my ballet show. (Okay maybe not as hard as I should have but still hard!) I am so glad you got me a bike last year. I am thanking you for it. Please get me another bike this year because Sam broke mine. But not on purpose so do not punish him. I wish you will also give my mom a bike. I wish you will give aunt Lida a new job. Santa I have a question to ask. Please try to understand my question. My question is please will you make me a real Elf like Tinkerbell? Please tell me that you know Peter Pan because I don't think I can explain it to you. I'm done. This is everything. But if you can't do anything from what I've mentioned, then I do have a small request. Please help Sam to go to the college that he wants. I really hate when he fights with my parents about this. And please do not make him go live in another country. Is this too much to ask? I'm sorry if it is. Hey by the way if you get married can you still be a Santa? If you can please marry my mom._

_I love you Santa. Hope you have a safe trip around the world!_

_Yuki"_

_He placed the letter back to its place and tried to stifle his laughter. "Yuki," he called again. "Turns out that I really can't find you." He looked around the room. Suddenly he heard a soft snicker coming from the huge box where Yuki used to keep her toys. He moved to stand in front of it and smiled cunningly. "Alright, poppet, I give up." The amused sniker grew to a wholehearted belly laugh. "Will you please come out of your hideout?" _

_Yuki got out of the box and gave her brother a wide grin. "Yes! Seriously, Sam, you are really not good in this! I win!"  
_

_"Holy crap I lost!" Sam dropped his arms in a feign despair. Yuki eyed him in obvious amusement. "Oh, I have just said a bad word, haven't I?"_

_"Yes you have." Yuki held out her small hand in front of her expectantly. "Now give me 800 yens before I go tell dad about this."_

_"Oh come on, poppet! Do I have to do this every time?" _

_"Of course! You promised you would stop cursing!" _

_He picked her up to gently place her on the bed. Ruffling her hair fondly, he murmured, "I will give you the money. Only if you promised me something in return."_

_"Anything!" _

_"Don't ever doubt that I'll always be here for you. About anything, you can tell me, and it'll stay between us. Can you do that?"_

_She nodded with a small smile. "Yupe! I promise."_

_"You know how much I love you right?" _

_"I love you more!"_

_"This is not even possible." He pecked her forehead and stood up again. "Now are you ready to lose? I'm probably a lousy seeker but damn I can hide better than you!" _

_She clasped her hand on her mouth and pointed at him. "You did that again! Add another 800!" _

"_Fine fine, you blackmailing evil witch!" he said and they both fell into peals of laughter._

* * *

I frantically jabbed at the elevator button._Hurry, hurry, hurry!_ I had a looming feeling that Killua was close to me. And it had been what ten minutes?

_Ding._

I tumbled inside the moment the stainless steel door slid open. Breathing hard, I ran my hand up and down the panel of buttons, from the top floor to the ground floor. Twenty-four buttons in total.

I dashed out of the elevator before it closed shut.

* * *

**Killua's PoV**

I whipped off the blindfold.

Gon and Jei were crouching on the floor, busying themselves with eating the leftovers from our chocolates. Kurapika hadn't moved from his seat. Leorio came back with Akaia and he was rubbing his butt painfully. I gave him an odd look.

"Your girlfriend ran into me," he explained dully.

"Oh."

I scanned the room quickly, in case Yuki was hiding right under my nose. That was when I spotted the heap of clothes lying on the floor – Yuki's shoes, her purple jacket, and her glossy necklace.

I scooped it up and passed it through my fingers. Then I scooped up the jacket. My eyes darted to the others. They were busy in their own ways. I quickly took a sniff. It smelled like…Vanilla Lace.

Huh.

I put the jacket back down, but kept the necklace in my palm before I turned my attention to the others.

"Kurapika, where are the surveillance tapes?"

He looked up from his small book. "Wouldn't that be cheating?" the blond-haired boss said pointedly.

"Technically, there's no rule against it," I shot back, although I secretly felt bad. But just a bit. There was no way I was going to lose.

I remembered Goto's words.

_"But sometimes if you follow the rules, you miss all the fun."_

Kurapika produced a small remote from his pocket and tossed it at me, and I caught it deftly. "You can replay whatever you want with this. Just pull off the curtains. Channel three." I compelled.

I examined the tiny remote. It had only three buttons – pause, rewind and reset. I pointed it at the screen, which showed the hallway just outside the room, and pressed rewind. The screen flickered and a few seconds later, I caught a flash of white.

I let go of the button, letting the video run. Sure enough, it was Yuki. Her straight, raven hair streamed behind her as she ran. The camera tracked her movements until she turned the corner, out of sight. I pressed rewind again, and hit pause. I inspected the image closely. "How much time has passed?"

"Ten minutes," Jei responded coldly. "Hurry up or…you lose."

"Shut up. You're distracting me."

I continued the process, mentally mapping out Yuki's trail. _Poor Yuki, she doesn't stand a chance. _I had to give her credit, though. She was in incredible shape, not even stopping once for a break. She seemed to know exactly where she was going too.

Three minutes later, I had all the information I needed. I set down the remote and kicked it over to Kurapika's lap. I whirled around, sauntering through the woody doors and out of the room.

I began to run, my sneakers thundering against the floor. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, flooding my head. I was already giddy from the rush.

This was natural. I was born to hunt.

For a moment, I could forget about my family. I could forget Illumi. I could forget the corpses that I had dealt with.

For a moment, I was eight again.

I stood in front of the elevator. It was moving._ It must be her! _No one was in the building at this time. The number display started to flash. _11, 12, 13…_ It finally stopped at 23.

Bingo.

I stabbed the elevator button several times, gritting my teeth in impatience._22, 21, 20__…_ It was coming back down, but at a suspiciously slow rate._  
_

_Ding._

The steel door whooshed open, and I stepped in confidently, smirking from ear to ear. I felt the smile disappear from my face when I noticed the control panel, half of which was glowing a cheery orange-pink.

_Damn it!_

Yuki had clearly rigged the elevator so that it would have to stop at every floor on its way down. She must've selected 23 first, before pressing all the rest. This meant that she must've stopped at any one of the floors above the tenth.

I held the 'close' button down for three seconds, and then pressed 11. It was a little trick I had learned from Milluki to override the other floors. The elevator panel cleared. The only button that remained lit up was 11. _Success!_

Then I groaned. _Thirteen floors to search. How fun._

**Forty-five minutes later**

_Damn it! Where the hell is she?_

I had finally reached the twenty-third floor, and there was still no sign of Yuki. It was eerily silent. Like the other twelve floors I had searched, it was dark and full of furniture. And terrible silence was everywhere.

I checked my phone. There were just five minutes left. I swore loudly; sweat was pouring out of every pore on my body. I couldn't believe I had wasted forty minutes checking out all those floors.

I screamed when my cell suddenly vibrated in my hand. "Holy fucking shit!"

It was a text.

From Yuki.

I had forgotten that I had her number. I instantly selected 'View Text.'

**"_5 mins, Kils."_**

My heart gave a funny little jump. I quickly texted back.

**"_Where __r u?"_**

Her response was immediate. **_"LOL."_**

I smiled, despite myself. I promptly accessed my phone's menu and activated the number tracking system that Milluki had so helpfully taught me how to install on my cell. Within seconds, the message flashed across the screen: '300 feet below origin.'

_The basement__! _Or more accurately, the underground parking lot.

I ran past the elevator and raced towards the stairwell. I flew down the flights of stairs and burst into the parking lot with two minutes to spare.

"Game over, Yuki!" I hollered, stomping towards the sleek black cars.

One minute. For a moment there, my ears had caught a strain of Yuki's ringtone. My eyes roamed over each car. _Yuki must've picked the lock…or…_

And then it hit me.

"_Your little girlfriend ran into me."_

Yuki had picked Leorio's pockets. _Impressive._

I inspected the cars. Much to my chagrin, they were all identical. Dammit. Which one was Leorio's?

Thirty seconds.

_Tick, tick, tick._

I punched the bulletproof windows in frustration. My phone vibrated once more and I flipped it open.

It was a text – from Jei.

_How the hell did he get this number? _I wondered, irked. I opened the message.

**"_00:00:00. You lost the game, Killua."_**

Yuki popped the lid of Leorio's trunk open and inhaled the fresh air. I was just a few feet away, staring between my phone and her in shock. She jumped out of the car, clutching her phone to her chest then she shut the trunk.

I nodded in defeat. "You win," I said reluctantly.

She beamed up at me. "I know."

"I was _so_ close," I grumbled loudly as we moved towards each other. "_SO close!_"

"Too bad," she said cheerfully, walking in the elevator's direction. Her face was flushed with delight, and there was a silly little grin on her face. _It was…_

_…adorable._

"Are you usually a freaking tease?" I leered at her. I still had a lot of leftover energy coursing through my system, and it was making me heady. My body was practically humming.

The small brunette furrowed her brow. "Oh I'm full of surprises. Are you usually a sore loser?" she retorted good-naturedly.

"It depends."

"On what?"

I slipped the necklace I had in my hand around her neck. "On whether or not there's a consolation prize." I wiggled my eyebrows. She didn't seem to get it.

Her hand cautiously pressed the elevator button before she whirled to meet my stare. My heart was hammering away at an unprecedented rate. "Consolation prize?"**_  
_**

_CRASH_. The whole building shook viciously with the impact. Faint cries could be heard from the streets. As my sake affected mind began to function, one name swam to the surface of my thoughts.

"The _Spiders!_" Yuki and I deduced at the same time.

Reflexively, I grabbed her hand and guided her to Leorio's car. "Hey, no!" she objected. "Let's take the elevator!"

The damage was even more unsettling when it could be seen. It appeared that the ceiling was being held up by a mix of support beams and luckily fallen hunks of building materials. The air was full of dust and the floor littered with debris.

"No, there is a big chance it will get stuck." I snatched the key from her hand and unlocked the vehicle in panic. My mind swam back to awareness. It felt like someone was stabbing me in the temple with an ice pick, then following up that love tap with a cast-iron skillet to the back of the skull. "Get inside the car!" I ordered.

"No! We have to see Kurapika!"

I was at the edge of knocking her down. "Yuki, get inside. Don't make me repeat myself."

"I won't!" Yuki ran to call for the elevator again.

Another rumble shook the parking-lot and chunks of concrete and other materials fell from the ceiling. The vitreous walls of the parking lot suddenly collapsed and the broken glass that scattered on the floor were shining like a thousand diamond rings. Before I knew it, a hail of bullets shot everywhere in the area.

_Oh, hell._

Unable to stop myself, I ran and seized the younger girl. I wrapped my arms around her as the shotguns continued their journey around the room in an incredible speed. I moved with her to stand behind a wall to avoid our death. She finally tore herself out of my grasp and I felt the pain struck me with such an intense stabbing force.

* * *

**Yuki's PoV**

I released myself from his grip. He gave me a truly disapproval look. "You are an idiot," Killua said breathlessly, his palm rested on the wall.

I couldn't stop trembling. My entire body was on fire, and I was aching in places I couldn't bring myself to think about. Not physically. But it was like all of my nerves were shot. The bullets had stopped their round. "I should…call Kurapika," I decided dizzily. Killua was still breathing heavily next to me.

The blond picked up. "Kurapika! Is everyone okay?"

"It's Gon, Yuki." I heard another explosion nearby. "No, we lost a lot of souls. The battle is raging in front of the building. Three of the Spiders are in there, but Kurapika is predicting that there are more of them because someone has just informed us that there is another battle happening in the east block."

_The east__… block._

"What's wrong?" Killua asked in daze.

_The east block._

_The Major Crime Unit._

_Marcus.  
_

I couldn't believe what was happening**. **

"Marcus!" I screamed and grabbed Killua's hand desperately. "Marcus! He is in danger! We should move!"

I heard his sharp intake of breath. "Okay calm down. We'll take Leorio's car."

I gnashed my teeth impatiently. "Is it safe?"

"If I am able to drive fast, we'll make it."

We reached the unlocked car. I slid into the passenger seat and leaned over to open Killua's door. He eyed me with a surprised gratefulness as he slipped inside and fastened his seat belt. His movements were difficult for a reason.

"How are we going to avoid everyone outside?" I asked, snapping my own belt as he turned the key in the ignition to bring the behemoth of a car to life. Loud music poured from the speakers abruptly. The pair of us nearly jumped out of our seats.

"I think we can try." Killua quickly turned the volume down completely. He shifted the car into drive and carefully eased it out of its space. Then he strongly revved the engine and before we knew it, we were off.

The scene outside the parking lot was familiar. The horrific memory rushed through my mind as if I turned back the time five years ago. Dead bodies. Panicked passersby. The sound of the car drowned out the noise of their yelling. Police cars were everywhere. Red and blue lights were shone simultaneously. But there was no battle. It took the Spiders few seconds to tear everyone who got into their ways apart.

I should've been horrified, disgusted, sick to my stomach. But I was merely… fascinated. Fascinated by the Spiders. Bile rose up in response to the feeling. I disgusted myself.

The car had grown significantly silent. "Faster," I demanded. "Drive faster please."

"I will."

My mind was whirling. I had never been so overwhelmed. I wanted to cry out with sheer emotion, but I didn't know which one. An immense wave of guilt came over me. I couldn't even begin to imagine the pressure I had put Killua under. Marcus was _my_ friend not his. I shouldn't have dragged Killua with me to this kind of danger. Unable to handle the pressure myself, I shrugged as the chill found its way to my body.

I noticed that I wasn't wearing any jacket in this unbelievably cold night. I almost forgot about abandoning it earlier in Kurapika's office.

Killua glimpsed at me. "Cold?" His voice was low. He was so damn attentive at that moment and I couldn't know how.

"No," I lied and snaked my arms around myself. My eyes narrowed when I sensed the thick liquid that was coating my hand. I examined my palm. Blood. I instantly checked my body and clothes. There was no sign of cuts, nor any traces of blood on any of them. I searched for pain, though I knew the numbness in my limps would forbid me from any sort of feeling. But I was fine. I _felt_ fine.

_Dammit!_ _What's going on?_

My mind was in blur. My eyes flickered at the blood again. I tried to remember everything my hand had touched before we climbed inside the car. I remembered the running. I remembered the bullets. I remembered Killua throwing his body around mine.

_It can't be…._

I slowly glanced at my left, but Killua ignored me. His gaze was focused on the road. His jaw was flexing as if he was swallowing back the pain. His shirt was stained with scarlet tint. His breathing was hard. And his grip on the steering-wheel was gradually sagging.

This was an absolute nightmare.

* * *

**A/N: **Such a way to end up the fluff right? By throwing a cliffhanger! I'm slowly moving to the climax of the story. Expect it after the twentieth chapter. I still need to give the couple sometime to shine before…you know.

Thank you for reading!


	18. Heroes

I do not own Hunter X Hunter.

* * *

**_18. Heroes_**

The darkness had been skirting the boundaries of the city of York Shin, and it dreadfully surrounded the road ahead of us. This was no longer a nightmare that lingered on the edge of my senses. It was a reality.

Reality had come on so fast.

Frozen for only an instant, I had to look away from him. I didn't think I could bear to see that amount of blood anymore. _His_ blood.

Several thoughts flashed rapidly through my mind. None of them very pleasant or comforting, but I pushed them aside and concentrated on managing few words out of me. I snuck another peek in his direction.

"You're bleeding." I could barely choke the statement out.

"I can see that," he murmured, his eyes clouding. I gasped, wondering how he could put this into understandable and relatively coherent words.

Black spots covered the light inside the vehicle as a cold point of pain stabbed icily into my throat. I could hardly breathe—I had come face to face with death before, but this was different; it was too hot in my throat. I willed my lips to move, willed the numb sighs to turn into words on my tongue.

"Pull over!" I almost screamed. Why hadn't he done it yet?

"No." His voice was somewhat calm. His expression was grim. "We're almost there."

My fingers twitched. The irritation breaking through every inch of my body. I couldn't answer him without screaming. "Do it, Killua, _now._"

"No."

Once again I felt oddly off balance, waiting for reactions my body wasn't capable of anymore. My heart should have been thundering like the the roaring engine. My cheeks should have been brilliant red.

I didn't waste much attention to what I was about to do. I reached for the lock of my door and slightly pushed it open. "Stop the car or I'll jump!" I hissed. Fury reigned in my head. It clouded everything else out.

He instantly grabbed my arm and turned me back to face him. "You—" Killua said, speaking as tonelessly as ever, his voice nearly a purr "—are insane."

I tried to erase the anger from my system entirely, but it was hard. He was making the process even harder.

I sniffled. "Pull over."

Killua, I noticed, was smiling. There wasn't as much moon as there had been hours ago, but there was enough so that I could see that the little curl at the corner of his lips was turning skywards, not down. "It's impossible how stubborn you are. Fascinating even." His sarcasm sickened me.

Managing to keep the curses on the tip of my tongue, I allowed a deep breath to interrupt their way. "Oh. I'm flattered. Now pull over." I let my glance roam over his bloodstained shirt again. The crimson liquid was dripping on his seat like raindrops from the eaves. And the smell of death was around. It was terrifying.

But he kept going on the long elongated stretch of road, hoping to outrun the paths of his pain, driving even more erratic in his desperate attempt to keep the awareness which he was fighting really hard to maintain. I could tell. No matter how in control he tried to appear, I could tell he was resisting. Enduring.

Until―

He surrendered. And lost control of the car. The shock was overwhelming, as well as the adrenaline that was pumping through my veins like a lethal poison. Suddenly the car swerved to the right. Letting out a sharp gasp, he jerked the wheel back towards the road, never once slowing down.

It was too late.

He tried to turn the wheel to the left, but he totally lost control and it seemed like we had hit a metal railing.

Holding our breaths, I was tempted to close my eyes, not wanting to witness what might be the result. Maybe it had been a moment of panic; a refusal to believe that we were about to die.

The car stopped.

My head hurt, and there was a loud ringing in my ears. I tried to open my eyes, but found it too painful. I began trying to move my arms, but stopped instantly when there was a sharp pain in my left arm. Once more, I tried to open my eyes, and this time I was able to. I could see that everything around me was blurry. It took my brain a moment to comprehend this.

Gathering my strength, I desperately tried to lift my heavy head. All of a sudden, the entire night came back to me, and my eyes shot wide open.

_Killua!_

Ignoring the pain in my head and neck, I instinctively looked at my left. I needed to make sure he was okay. To make sure he was alive. His hands were still clutching at the steering-wheel with his forehead resting on them.

"Hey, can you hear me?" I began in a slight slur from being disorientated. It was almost humorous I decided, that in a moment like this, _all_ the common senses flee from your person. Instead of getting him out of the car, all I did was sit there and gape.

"Look," Killua answered patiently as he slowly rose his head. I skipped a beat at the shakiness in his voice. "Give me your knife."

Thankfully, I renewed all of my senses immediately and lent him the weapon. "What are you planning to do?"

Stuttering, he pulled at the hem of his shirt. Sweat was running down his face and his damp hair was sticking to his forehead. "I have to remove the bullet."

"_What_!" I demanded. "Have you ever done that before?"

God, was he actually thinking of taking a knife to his flesh? Was it weird that that sounded kind of insane to me?

"Once, sort of."

I laughed nervously. "What the hell does that mean? I think the blood loss is making you woozy."

"I need fire. Are you carrying a lighter with you?" I shook my head in panic. "It's okay. The car's lighter will do the work." He wanted to disinfect the knife, I knew that. All I could think about was that hot blade coming at his wound.

"You sure you can do this?"

His breathing had become more labored. Quite restricted, which became increasingly uncomfortable and began affecting his ability to keep his answers sensible. "The bullet isn't in too deep."

"That didn't answer my question!"

He remained indifferent to what I was saying. "I need your help." His jaw finally began to loosen from the cringe that had been stuck in. I wasn't completely convinced I would be able to help, but I thought it better to try than not.

I nodded.

"I need you to hold me still, in case I tried to move. It might be painful, and moving will make it more difficult for me to get the bullet out without damaging nerves."

It _might_ be painful? I stared at him in disbelief. My heart shattered at the poorly-veiled fear underlying his assertive tone.

He didn't bother to wait for a response, before picking up a bottle of distilled water that was already in Leorio's car, and squirting some over the wound, cleaning it, so he could see what he was doing. And he explicitly shivered at its coldness.

The wound was a few centimeters above his waist. The bullet was almost at the surface, so he used my knife to gently loosen it. Blood continued to ooze from the wound, covering his hands as he worked the knife around the small, half crushed bullet. He didn't whimper, but remained still without my assistance. Then he worked the blade around the bullet until he got a solid grip, and pulled the bullet clean from its place. I was simply outmaneuvered – blindsided – by the smell of the blood.

He handed me the bullet and the knife. "Use the lighter to heat the blade again. Quickly." I blindly focused on the work, desperately trying to wrap my mind around the fact that he was about to cauterize his wound by himself.

_Who is the insane one now?_

I swallowed and quickly passed him the blistering hot knife, keeping the bullet in my trembling hand. Biting his lip, he pressed the hot blade into the wound.

He moved the knife to the lips of the wound, holding the edges together in hopes of sealing it with raw, burnt flesh. He suppressed a scream with effort. I could notice his shirt growing wet from the sweat and the blood. I finally squeezed my eyes shut, deciding it really wasn't important enough to withstand the torture scene.

Finished, he squirted the rest of the water over it, and took off his jacket to cover the wound. I could feel his whole body hot, wet with sweat, and trembling, as he continued to breathe loudly. I dropped the knife, and wiped my bloody hands on my white top, already knowing that I looked like a slaughterhouse.

It took only minutes for him to quiet the steady quaking of his heartbeat. Twenty more, and the tension began to evaporate from his body.

I fell back on my seat and let the wind circulate inside the car by opening the window. I shut my eyes, and focused on the sounds of the street. On the smells. These were the senses that would protect us in the dark.

With a grunt of effort, my eyelids parted. I ran my fingers through his damp hair, tenderly brushing it from his eyes. He seemed to relax a bit as he continued to calm down his breathing. My voice came out in a shaky whisper. "You are, undoubtedly, the craziest person I've ever known," I said and he smiled. "You alright?" I shifted awkwardly on top of my seat.

"Yeah." He cringed. "I've been through worse." He grabbed my hand from his cheek and give it a slight squeeze.

There was a long silence. I was vaguely aware of a soft but insistent tugging sensation everywhere around me and inside of me and nowhere at once. The very air seemed to teem with a sluggish, dreamlike quality. Then the sun started peaking over the horizon and out of the clouds.

I sighed. "What a weird night." The ringing of my phone interrupted the severe silence. "It's Marcus," I declared weakly.

I couldn't have the chance to start the conversation. Marcus' yelling started abruptly the minute I pressed the green button. "_Yuki! Dammit! I lost my cellphone and I was dying in worry!_" I exhaled in relief.

"Marcus, I'm fine." I looked at Killua who was on the thin line between awareness and fainting. "Listen to me, I'll tell you about my location and I need you to be there in _this_ instant."

Marcus hesitated a second. "_Of course!_"

* * *

_Even with knowing that it would only need a slight push, Yuki threw the door of Marcus' room open with more force than necessary, the knob denting the wall as the couple stormed inside. Still clutching at the side of his stomach, Killua closed his eyes and stumbled a little. Yuki rushed to support him, holding his arm to steady him from the wooziness that was caused by the blood he lost. "Come on," she said, guiding him inside Marcus' room to reach the bed. "Sit down for a minute." She grabbed the blanket that was at the end of the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders._

_She placed a palm on his forehead. "You have a fever." Reflexively, he quickly started searching inside the drawer of the bedside table. "There should be something for it in here. Advil or Tylenol. Anything." _

_"I'm fine, Yuki. You're freaking out over nothing," he said, taking deep wheezing breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. _

_"Shut up." Yuki pulled the blanket closer around Killua's shoulders. __Even though he was clammy and hot, he was shivering. __"Listen to me."_

_"Hmm?" He was barely awake._

_"I'll be back in a minute, okay? Just stay put. I'm going to get something to break your fever."_

_She went into the kitchen and got a large bowl, filling it with tepid water. Then she frantically hunted down the linen closet and grabbed a fresh washcloth, taking it and the bowl of water back into the bedroom._

_"Hey," she muttered, trying to pull the blanket off of him. "I need to get your fever down." Killua gripped the blanket tighter, so she had to pry at his fingers. "I know it's cold, but I'm going to make you feel better."_

_She got the blanket open enough to gain access to his arms, and gently washed them, cleaning them from the blood and cooling them off at the same time. Yuki trailed down his forearms and washed his hands, front and back. Rinsing out the washcloth, she then moved up to his neck and face, washing away the slick film of sweat that covered him. _

_"Thanks." He sounded slurry._

_She pushed his hair away from his face. "You're welcome."_

_He opened his eyes and looked at her, just staring for a moment before saying, "You don't have to do this."_

_"I know I don't have to, but I want to." She placed the bowl on the table. "Now can you sit properly for me?" she demanded. He struggled into a sitting position. "Drink this," she said, her fingers putting two pills in his mouth, the other hand holding a glass of water. He wrapped his hand around hers as he took several large mouthfuls, wincing as he swallowed. _

_"This fever is bad," she said, pressing the back of her fingers to his cheek. _

_"No, it's not. I told you I'm fine."_

_"Yeah, because you always sound like you've just smoked a carton of cigarettes," she retorted sarcastically. "Now lie down," she told him, smoothing out the bed. _

_"God, you're so bossy," he croaked, slowly lying his head on the pillow. "Are you sure you want to be a hunter not a mafia leader?" _

_She gave him a look. He smiled and didn't say anything more, just watched her as she covered his wound with one piece of square gauze after cleaning it._

_"You don't look fine," he pointed out tentatively. _

_She focused her gaze on her hands. "Well, if you call the urge to beat the crap out of you right now as fine, then no, I'm very much fine." _

_He tried to hide a smile. "You were worried about me?"_

_She just nodded. _

_"A bullet doesn't kill me, Yuki." _

_She sighed. "Anyway, you need to rest." He didn't take much convincing, allowing her to pull the covers up to his chest. "We should get rid of your shirt when the fever breaks." He nodded, his eyelids drooping. "How are you feeling now?"_

_"Sloshy," he answered. "And kinda funny. What the hell did you give me?"_

_"Shh," she hushed and started to get up, then halted. "It'll let you sleep for a few hours," she murmured, backing away from the bed. "I'll be out in the living room if you need me."_

_Before she could leave, he grabbed her hand, his too-warm fingers wrapping around hers._

_"Stay," he said._

_She gazed down at their hands. "But you need to rest."_

_"I will. Just stay."_

_She tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned down until her face was a breath away from his. "You know you sound like a child, right?"_

_Killua blushed. "Yeah, and I don't care." _

_She smiled and climbed on top of the chair next to the bed, brushing her thumb across the back of his hand, watching him as he gave up to sleep. _

_The balloon of wild worry in her chest slowly deflated._

* * *

**Killua's PoV**

The pain was dull.

In my life, I had known pain. From my earliest memories and in all its wide variety of flavors. I had felt the purely physical ache of old and new injuries mingling. I had felt the burn of my own blood boiling in my veins. I had felt the sudden crack of my own bones breaking and the ragged tearing of my own skin. More painful still, I had felt the sharp, deep stab of losing several little pieces of my soul.

I could remember why I didn't scream the pain away earlier, why I endured it.

Keeping her safe.

I felt a moment of shock. Then a flood of warmth._ Why did it matter so much?_

I drifted for a while, my body leaden and unable to move. I didn't want to open my eyes; the throbbing in my head was unbearable.

But I could feel.

I could feel something soft under me. My head rested on fabric, and the room was cold. My temples felt numb, as did my cheek and a chill dampness leaked down my neck. I felt the cold move slightly, confused how the cold would migrate lower towards my jaw. I tried to open my eyes to figure it out. But no matter what, my brain didn't want my eyes to open.

_White._

Soft and warm. And white. The light around me was slightly overwhelming. For a brief moment, I considered trying to fall asleep again, but decided that I needed to take advantage of being lucid for once. I had a tiny feeling I would be unable to wake up again.

I slowly looked out from under my lashes. I was in a foreign room. The hideous light was pouring from the window which allowed a waft of the morning air to enter. I shivered. Then I realized I wasn't wearing anything beside my pants. I opened my eyes all the way, blinking in the brightness.

There were low breaths coming from somewhere close to me. I turned my head, seeing her perched on a chair next to my bed. She was staring towards the window in contemplation. Her irises were a bright blue. Almost violet. Her skin was smooth and glistened like porcelain. All besides her cheeks, which flamed with color. She looked so contradictory, sometimes.

The warmth inside my heart got more and more real.

"Hey," I whispered, not wanting to startle her.

She blinked owlishly_._ A small smile finally appearing on her face. "Hey." Her voice ringed and shimmered like a bell.

The pain changed. On the good-news side of things, it started to fade from my body. Fading _slowly_, but at least it was doing something new. The pain was on its way out. The room was silent besides the hammering of my heart.

"Are you okay?" I asked her, sincerely curious. Yuki chuckled quietly shaking her head at me.

"You're impossible. You're asking if I am okay?"

I made a concerned effort to focus. And I simply kept a serious expression. "Yes."

She sighed softly. "If you had asked me that five hours ago, I would have replied with a firm no. But I am 'okay' now."

_Five hours_. I had slept for five hours. "Good. I was worried."

She gazed at me in wonder. "You were worried, Killua. I am not the one who got shot and removed the bullet from her own body."

_The bullet. I was shot_.

Everything was clear now. Sharp. Defined.

I looked around me once more. "Where am I?"

"You are in Marcus' room. You don't remember when we drove here?"

I shook my head. Unsure of my mind's ability to gather what happened after cauterizing my wound. The absence of pain was all I could comprehend at that moment.

"It doesn't matter now." She moved closer with her chair. "You are okay now."

Very carefully, so carefully that the movement was actually restricted, I tried to sit. Laying down like that wasn't getting me anywhere. I used my arms to lift my weight. My back ached. Then there was pain again—one warm slash of it. I gasped.

I felt her hands on my shoulders, stopping me with a pleading look on her face. "What can I do to keep you in bed?"

Ignoring the hidden implication behind the question, I considered it. "Talk to me."

"Alright. I can do that."

This coaxed a smile from me. I remembered this specific line.

_"No, let's stay here. Promise me that you won't go out of your room now, can you?"_

_"I can do that," she muttered to herself. "But will you play with me again?"_

"What do you want me to talk about?" Yuki asked.

It only took me a moment to think about that, my eyes shut as I breathed the scent of her. "Tell me about your family's murder," I decided. She tilted her head at me.

"You really _are_ morbid. It's not a partculaly pleasant story."

"I really want to hear it."

She took a shallow, fluttery breath. "Okay. It's a little hard to fold the memories together, but I'll try." I patiently waited. She leaned back on her seat. "It happened on a July night. I was getting ready for my ballet show. Sam was asked by my parents to come back home from his college. They said he decided to come back because he wanted to watch my show, but deep inside I knew it was a lie. I knew when my parents lied to me." She hesitated, surprised how quick her speech was. "That night, I remember my ballet dress. I remember kissing Sam goodnight. I remember going to my room to sleep. And I slept. And then I heard their screams from my bedroom. And then…."

She mumbled the last part, and then her voice trailed off. Her eyes glittered.

"Then?" I promoted, suddenly impatient to know.

She frowned. "Then I saw a dream."

"A dream?"

"Yes." Her face softened then, and she brought her hands under her chin. She stared off to the side when she spoke, not talking to me at all. "I saw this boy. He was…different. In a way. I sometimes cannot remember if it was a dream or a reality, but when I think logically, I call it a dream. I remember playing with with that kid. But I don't really remember his face. Or his voice. Or his name. I sometimes think that some strange fate helped me to see that dream, just to make that night easier." Her face turned a beautiful shade of pink. I felt a twisted feeling in my stomach. More like a toothed knife. "In a way."

I couldn't tell if I should be thankful for her momentary memory loss or not. I was too messed up to care about that.

She took a deep breath. "The next thing I remember were the dozens of policemen in my apartment. They made me wait in my room for Maria. The woman who told me what happened to my parents and Sam."

It was silent for a few heartbeats. I looked down at the sheets, unable to meet her stare.

"I told you it's not a very pleasant story."

When I looked up again, she was grinning.

The unfocused confusion of thoughts began to move together. "Uh. Yeah."

_Dammit, stop grinning like that. _

"Fortunately," she said as she got up excitedly, "there is a kitchen here. I'll make you something to eat. Are you in a mood for cookies?" She smiled the very most childlike smile. _Her_ smile.

"You don't have to take care of me."

"I want to take care of you," she said, giving me that look that told me I better shut up if I wanted to live. "So, cookies?"

Try as hard as I could resist, I had to smile back. Just a tiny smile. "Sounds great."

* * *

**Yuki's POV**

Marcus found me in the kitchen later, helping Keiko, the housekeeper, in baking the cookies. "Well, if you could also make a few batches of toffee chunk biscuits, I'd be most obliged," he said as he appeared next to me.

I sheepishly smiled back. "He needs to eat. He lost a lot of blood."

"How's he feeling now?"

I stared at his concerned eyes and made an effort to respond. "Much better."

I went back to my baking, spooning batter onto the bake sheet and also trying not to get my necklace stuck in it.

"What he did was pretty idiotic though," Marcus commented wearily, dropping a finger in the bowl and licking it clean. "I mean, he could have been killed."

I blanched at the thought. Marcus noticed. "I am aware of that," I replied dizzily.

Marcus pushed back in the chair at the table he had tripped over and pushed some strands of hair out of his eyes. "You know, I've just realized you didn't exactly tell me what happened. Who shot him?"

The horrible memory hit me like a sack of bricks. "I don't know. I hadn't got the chance to notice." Keiko popped the hot cookies out of the oven and offered to finish my own work.

"It's okay, Yuki-chan. I'll continue it. Go get some rest." She took the spatula from my hand with a smile.

"Thanks," I muttered a bit distracted.

Marcus rose up from his chair and popped an entire cookie in his mouth, chewing vigorously as he still stood still quite close to me. "But why was he standing in the bullets' way? Did he have a death wish or something?"

I met his eyes for a second and then decided to look away. "He was trying to save me."

Marcus stared back at me as his eyes got wider and wider. Then he took another cookie. He swallowed and brushed crumbs from his hands. "Wow. You two are honestly out of your minds. A match made in heaven."

I blinked and came to the horrifying conclusion that I was stuck where I stood. Marcus enjoyed watching me blush.

"How's Kurapika and the others?" he demanded.

"I spoke with him few minutes ago. He said everything is under control. A few members of the police were killed, but the treasures are safe for some reason. Kurapika found it difficult for him to explain to me what happened exactly there. I'm going to have to talk to him again."

Marcus' expression was calm. "Did you tell him about Killua?"

"No," I quickly responded. "I don't want him to worry."

Marcus sighed loudly. "Anyway, I suppose you should take Keiko's advice and sleep. Look at yourself."

I nodded and held up the plate of cookies. "I'm going to check on him first." When Marcus reached for the third cookie, I slapped his hand. "That's enough! Learn to share!"

He withdrew his hand and pouted. "But I'm starving."

"Well, Keiko can feed you now. I've slaved over these for an hour. I would like them to last as long." I started to walk away, still holding the hot plate.

"But that's absolutely not fair." I laughed.

"Whine all you want later, Marcus," I called over my shoulder increasing my pace.

* * *

I reached the second floor stopping at the landing, and taking a minute to catch my breath. I soundlessly walked down the hall until I was at the last door on the right. Marcus' room. I turned the knob and opened the door to darkness, save for a faint glow of sun light that spilled across the large room and fell onto the immense bed that I knew so well.

But he was not lying there anymore. _How strange._

I scanned the room, looking for him.

He was standing in front of the wide windows, pulling down the hem of the shirt he was struggling to put on. All I really saw was his face; it filled my vision and overwhelmed my mind. His eyes were a buttery, burning green. His face was almost severe with the depth of his earlier exhaustion.

I instantly dropped the plate on the small table beside the bed and moved nearer to him. "You are not supposed to leave the bed, Killua. What're you doing?"

"I–I borrowed one of Marcus' shirts. If it's okay."

The shirt was slightly tight for him despite the fact that Marcus was two years older than Killua. "No problem. As long as you're feeling better. The whole room is your own oyster." He chuckled. It was a nervous sound, rare for Killua.

A rush of heat flashed across my skin. The room was too warm.

"You should eat something," I suggested.

"Wait a second." He reached for my hand and took it in his. "I think… I owe you something."

"Owe me what?"

"You won against me hours ago, didn't you? I think I need to keep my promise and make that confession."

A hopeful smile started to spread across my face and I narrowed my eyes at him playfully. "That I'm one of the _absolutely_ greatest, bravest and strongest hunters you've ever encountered?"

Killua smiled just a little in return. "You are."

I shook my head. "Okay, I totally added bravest and strongest. Illegitimately, but whatever. I totally earned it―wait," I paused, looking at him, "I am?"

He nodded, his eyes still on mine. They were impassive and eerily sincere. "Not just hunters. You're one of the bravest and strongest people I know."

I didn't know where that came from, and I definitely know how to respond to it. All I knew was that I need to show my gratitude, and this was the perfect moment.

I tugged on his shoulders cautiously, stretching up on my toes. He stared at me for a moment, his expression serious, and thoughtful, and anxious, and a whole shit load of other stuff that was making my brain hurt, and then his hand gently gripped my waist just above my hip. He was so close, solid and warm. For a second I started believing that I'd definitely been lucidly sleeping, because this was clearly a hallucination. Maybe my whole life here was. Maybe I was actually lying in a hospital bed in a van-induced coma. That would explain a _lot_. Like why I was doing this, why I was looking at _him _like _that_, like… God, I don't even know what that was.

He stayed completely silent, waiting for some sort of clue to understand my motives. I shivered when I felt his breath near my ear. My heart thudded audibly against my ribs, and my breath seemed to get stuck in my throat.

He drew in a slow breath, and then my lips touched his, soft enough to be the cool brush of a flower petal, and just as fragile. My hands went firm on his shoulders and I inhaled a quick breath, as though surprised by the feeling as much as he was. I swore I could feel each individual finger against my skin, cloudy, but so much more than the first time we tried.

There were a few seconds where my rattled brain attempted to figure out what the hell was going on, before it finally clicked into place: I was kissing him.

Something inside of me took over. My fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt, trying to get more of a reaction. When it failed, I began to retreat, pulling away. And then he responded. He tightened his hand on the back of my head and parted his lips just slightly, kissing me back. His returning kiss was guarded, careful, as if he was holding a lot of himself back.

The kiss was not how it was described in books. There was no sudden electricity or flames between us. It was tentative and a little stiff, but somehow still nice. It was brief yet the softness filled me with a deep need I had never experienced before.

Letting the fresh air wake up the more rational side of my mind, I parted from him, but kept his forehead pressed against mine. Any embarrassment I had abandoned returned all at once. We stayed silent for a while. The only sound in the room was that of air entering and leaving our lungs.

"Oh, shit," he said, his quickened breath falling onto my skin. "This is bad. Bad, bad, bad, bad."

I watched him pull completely away from me and pace the room. My ego started deflating. "The kiss was bad?"

"No," he snapped. "No, no, no. Not the kiss. The _situation_ is bad," he said with his fist covering his lips. "The kiss was good. Too good. Damn it." His words were reassuring, but somehow, his answer didn't make me feel any better. He sounded nervous all of a sudden and I decided to give him a moment to get all the pacing out of his system. Finally, he stopped, staring at me in utter confusion. "Why the hell did you do that?"

I could feel myself squinting. _What boy asks a girl why she kissed him? _

_Killua, apparently._

"I don't know. Caught up in the moment, I guess."

Something flashed in his eyes. "You go ahead and kiss every guy you have a damned 'moment' with?"

"No." I glared at him. "Why are you making such a disaster out of this? You're making it sound like I stole your kiss-virginity or something. It's just a kiss. And BTW, you sort of kind of kissed me back. And I might not be an expert, but I can tell when someone enjoys it and when he doesn't."

He rolled his eyes. "Yuki, I'm a seventeen year old male. A stiff breeze can make me…enjoy it. Let alone the attractive girl I like doing all sorts of things that feel good to me."

I threw my arms in the air in frustration. "Then what's your problem?"

"The problem is…" He sighed with his hands on his hips, pretending to stare at the carpet. He was defensive, not looking at me. "You don't know me. You don't know me well enough."

I shrugged. "I know you took a bullet for me. I know you smell nice. Oh, and I know you think I'm attractive."

He dropped his head and I saw the hint of a smile on his face, but it looked more sad than happy. "These are not enough reasons to kiss somebody, Yuki."

Growling, I said, "For god's sakes, Killua." I picked up the bowl of cookies and walked over to offer it to him. "I won't ask you for an engagement ring. Relax. Don't complicate it and leave the paranoid part to me okay?"

The only problem was that I had no idea how much Killua was going to complicate things. What crazy, crazy ways Killua was going to complicate things.


	19. Overstep

**It all belongs to Yoshihiro Togashi.****  
**

* * *

_**19. Overstep**_

_Taking a deep breath and holding it, the former assassin gently untangled the brunette's fingers from his hand and let her palm smooth over the soft cotton of the mattress. He then noiselessly left the bed to creep across the room to the window. The fresh wound on his skin burned slightly with each movement, but it was another type of burning that he felt more prominently, for it had hung in his deepest insides and pervaded his heart, leaving him pulling at his hair in frustration. _

_What the hell am I doing? he questioned himself.  
_

_Killua pressed __his fingertips to his lips_, which had become dry now after the contact of few hours ago, but he was still aware of the memory, more than anything else, aware of the way her oddly-sweetened breath floated across his cheek, of the way his whole face was numbed by the chill, as if he'd walked outside during the start of winter.  


_Her lips, even mashed against his in that clumsy way of hers, they had possessed a certain softness, and he realized that for those brief seconds, she had tasted sweeter than any confection. Everything then was happening unhurriedly, carefully—a little fearful, a lot wonderful—but it was also all-encompassing, erasing every thought that had come before it. Everything paled next to it, which felt so right it hurt and burned even further in his chest._

_It was the best kind of hurt._

_But it was wrong, it was wrong on so many levels.  
_

_Killua suddenly heard sheets rustle from somewhere behind him. "Mhmm," Yuki hummed in a low, breathy whisper. She slept fitfully, her fists knotting up in the sheets as she writhed and gasped. Her movements matched his own inner turmoil. He wanted to go to her—to do what, he didn't know, but the urge was there. Still, he was so confused._

"_Please_,"_ she whispered, and he felt like she was crying for him._

_He couldn't stand it any longer._

_He crept silently nearer, and watched as gooseflesh rose up across the exposed skin of her arms that were bended beneath the white pillow. Did she sense that he was getting closer? Although he never had to wonder for so long. As he came to her bedside, he watched in baffled amazement as the gooseflesh relaxed, and the tiny, blonde hairs on her arms resettled._

_Her eyelids twitched and jerked as REM-sleep took hold of her. She gasped again, but it was different this time, less an expression of surprise or fear. This time, she sounded pained, sounded as though she had cried for so long that she was now choking and hiccuping on her sobs.  
_

_He felt drawn to her, and through that pull, he felt an echo of her pain, even if he had no understanding of its details. All he knew was that he would gladly shoulder some of her pain, if it would just give her some peace._

_Crouching beside her bed, he brought up a shaky hand and carefully—so, so carefully—rested it on her covered back. He rubbed his hand in what he hoped was a soothing circle, using the same pressure her palms used on his shoulders during the kiss. With her being so petite and shivering, it almost felt like he was petting a fragile animal._

_To his surprise, she quieted beneath his touch and snuggled down deeper into her covers with a sweet, contented sigh.  
_

_At one point in those minutes, he tried to remove his hand from her back, preparing to take his leave, but she immediately whimpered and let out another sigh, "No__…_"  


_His muscles locked into place, and he felt his eyes grow wide. Logically, he knew she was asleep. Emotionally, he felt as though she knew all about his dilemma. He returned his hand to her back, hoping and praying she'd not wake._

_A small smile played at her lips. "Don't go…"_

_I won't, he answered immediately, silently, and he wondered what he was getting himself into. But he was powerless to it – to her._

* * *

The next day, the first thing I recognized was that I felt different.

Admittedly, I was not a normal person. I was human, obviously, but normal was far from a valid descriptor. I was capable of friendship, and certainly of love, but never could I imagine myself drowning this deeply in experiencing them, even if they were normal tendencies. There was something about him that made tendrils of heat begin creeping over my body. They traveled and intertwined, until my entire body felt like a light bulb.

I felt _totally_ different.

I saw my past fifteen years flash before my eyes in a series of moments. I saw smiles and heard laughter. I felt tears that had already been shed and holes in my heart that I had never thought they may heal. Echoes of my past life, flashes of my childhood, glimpses of familiar faces, and scenes of happier days. I could only recall the happiest moments, at the moment. Was it foolish of me to hold onto my childhood memories? Not exactly, but I may have held on a little too strong. And for too long, as well.

I felt like a child on a Christmas morning, and I quickly discovered that a life can be summed up in a matter of moments. I was eventually able to bury my former sorrows away. Lock on them so they would never crawl back again. I felt like the rest of the world melted away. My past melted away. My memories melted away and my previous pain was replaced with a delicious emotional glowing in my muscles.

It was like this sense of satisfaction that had only been increasing lately, and I had only been becoming a complete prisoner to this one single emotion. I just felt like something major was going to be changing. I never did very well with change. I liked my routines; they helped me feel stable. As much as I tried to ignore my feelings, he was always in the back of my mind. I was honestly scared of those budding feelings which had started to take the best of me. But they weren't distasteful. Not at all.

With a soft gasp, I managed to stay very still when I woke up. The thick haze that blurred my vision was forever gone, though the essential numbness presented itself in several places in my body.

The curtains blew in the gentle afternoon breeze, causing the sunlight to dance across the bedroom floor. Not a sound penetrated my waiting ears. Even the breeze, toying with the curtains, was mysteriously silent.

A small voice told me to get up as I allowed my eyes to close and drift back to sleep. Then I felt a hand brushing strands of wild curls out of my face, wiping the trivial sweat off my clammy forehead. The touch was electric and it seemed to make the discomfort melt.

I peaked through my eyelashes only to find a dark pair of eyes meeting mine. He was sitting so comfortably on the edge of the bed beside me. I let my glance roam over the nearest clock only to find out that I had been sleeping for three hours. "Am I in trouble?" I whispered with a dizzy smile.

His answering smile dazzled me more than it ever had before. "Absolutely."

I breathed a relief sigh. "You should have woken me up."

"I tried, but I couldn't. You looked so peaceful. You were also humming to yourself."

I frowned. "I was?"

He gazed back at me evenly, his expression calm but otherwise amused. "Yes, but I didn't quite catch the words. That was kind of frustrating."

"I believe I was a bit tired," I conceded, blushing a deep red.

He touched my burning cheek with the back of his finger and chuckled. "Well, that's another reason why I couldn't wake you up." I nodded sheepishly. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did," I said in realization. "But I just had a weird dream, and it's kind of freaking me out."

"What kind of weird dream?"

"It was about cupcakes… metaphorical cupcakes," I answered that way too fast. This wasn't a big deal, so it didn't have to be weird. I mean it _was_ weird, but it didn't have to be weird on the outside.

"As in the cupcakes were a metaphor for something else?" Killua asked, his face scrunching up in thought.

"Yeah." Cue the awkward smiles.

"What _were_ the cupcakes?"

"Hmm…people. The cupcakes were people."

"So you were metaphorically eating people?"

"What?" I suddenly realized that I wasn't supposed to talk about it, or I wasn't supposed to talk to _him_ about it. "No! I didn't _eat_ them. It wasn't a dream about cannibalism."

"It's not cannibalism if they're cupcakes."

"_People_ cupcakes!"

"Wait, were they cupcakes made out of people, or cupcakes representing people?"

I pulled my body up into a sitting position, giving him an incredulous look. "I may not be the sanest person, but do you really think I had a dream about cupcakes made out of people? How would you even do that?"

"I don't know how to bake."

"Even if you _did_ know how to bake, I don't think you'd automatically know how to make cupcakes out of people. We should really stop talking about this. Can we talk about something not food related? I haven't had breakfast yet."

"Why are you trying to deflect that?"

"Because…it's embarrassing," I groaned, before turning to bury my face in the pillow.

"Why?"

"Because you were one of the cupcakes," I muttered into the pillow, peaking up at him with one eye opened.

Killua's face kind of froze, and I couldn't tell if he was amused or angry. This might have been a really bad choice for a subject change. I was pretty much convinced he was completely uncomfortable, or totally pissed, until he started to laugh. If he were angry and/or upset and/or hurt he wouldn't be laughing… at least not like that.

"Are you saying, did you _eat me_?"

I turned to scowl at him, and replied, "No, I didn't _eat_ anyone, thank you very much." I shoved him playfully and he half-fell back a little, before he straightened back up.

"So what did you do?"

"I was supposed to choose."

"Choose a cupcake?" he asked. I nodded. "Which corresponds to a person?"

"Yup."

"Male people?"

"Yup."

"Which ones?" I just shook my head with a smile. I was _not_ going into_ that_. "Okay, _who_ did you choose?"

"I woke up before that happened."

Killua narrowed his eyes in frustration. "Who were you _going_ to choose?"

"Well, I don't think I would get into a death ride with anyone… and then bake him cookies."

His smile was really bright. "So…is that a compliment? I mean, should I be offended that your subconscious thinks of me as a cupcake or happy that you were going to choose cupcake-me to—" He cut himself off. "What were you going to do with the cupcake after you picked?"

"I don't know. Although I also thought you'd make a _really_ great cult leader, and that's much more masculine than a cupcake…I think."

"A cult leader?"

"Yup! I think you've got the potential."

"Is that a compliment?"

"I'm not really sure," I answered honestly.

"You may be the weirdest girl I've ever met."

"Is _that_ a compliment?"

"So, what kind of cult are we talking about?" he asked with a smirk. "Do we murder others or mass suicide? Is it a hippy commune or more of a militaristic set up? Am I a prophet or a prevaricator? What are we talking about here?"

I fought the urge to hide my face again, and answered, "I'm not really sure. Mostly I just thought you'd have lots of wives who would have lots of kids, and everyone would be named after apples."

"Apples? What, like someone would be named _Macintosh_?"

"Exactly. And you'd all live on an apple orchard in the middle of nowhere and you'd go on and on about the, what was it?" I scrunched my eyes shut, wracking my brain for the word. "Oh! The dichotomy of apples."

"Hmm." He got a funny look on his face, confused and thoughtful and all kinds of other things at once. Maybe calling him a cupcake and a cult leader in the span of a few minutes was a bit too much.

"What?" I asked, then. I really hoped I hadn't offended him, although I didn't think that even the much more personal stuff could offend a guy like him.

"You are Royal Gala."

"Huh?"

"I'd call you Royal Gala, if I was going to name you after an apple."

"Who says I'd be a part of your cult?" The sad thing is if he did run a cult, I'm pretty sure I'd join in a heartbeat. Maybe he could just have one wife… Goddammit, I woke up ten minutes ago and suddenly we were married so I wouldn't feel so bad about being a member of his cult.

"Me. I'm the leader aren't I?"

I shifted myself more closer to him so he was right in front of my face. "Maybe I don't want to be a part of your cult."

"I'd have to make sure you wanted to be."

"I don't really _do_ polygamy," I retorted.

"Well then you shouldn't have put it in there. That was a very silly thing to do."

I rolled my eyes at him and asked, "Why would you call me Royal Gala?"

"Because they have a very nice pink blush color," he said. Which of course made me blush like hell, and he knew it would too, the bastard. The bastard that I thought I might be dating. I was definitely in a van-induced coma. As coma dreams went, I thought this was a pretty good one, a very good one, a completely freaking fantastic one, actually.

"Just like that," he muttered smugly.

"Shut up," I mumbled, covering my warm cheeks with my hands.

Killua grinned and leaned his forehead against mine. "Are you ever going to tell me what the cupcakes were supposed to be?"

His breath was just as sweet and minty as I remembered. "Well someone's really not going to drop this topic, are they?"

"Well you should know by now that I am… a _mildly_ curious person."

I pulled back slightly to look at him. "I said they were people."

"But…what people? What was the meaning?"

"Oh, I don't know. Let me consult my vast knowledge regarding dream interpretation, and I'll get back to you," I answered sarcastically. Killua rolled his eyes and shifted, turning his head around to stare out of the window. "Well, at least, I didn't have any nightmares."

He fidgeted in his seat, his attention once again back to me. "You usually have nightmares?"

"Yeah." I paused, carefully choosing my words. "I've had them since I was six. But for _some_ reason, they decided not to ambush me this time."

There was a teeny tiny twinkle in his eyes. "And why do you think is that?"

"I do believe that someone's presence kept them away."

He smirked. "Well then. You are welcome."

"Come here." I tugged and pulled on him. His face drew closer to mine, his lips mere centimeters away when a loud knock sounded at the door. Killua wriggled away and I made the effort to fully wake up, finally, while trying to wipe away any expression that occurred from the situation of two seconds ago.

Marcus stormed in a little disturbed at the scene before him; he wasn't quite expecting to find the two of us in the same room for this long—in his house, too. "I'm taking off. Are you going to be okay here?"

I coughed to clear my throat. "Yes. We're leaving right now."

"Oh," Marcus said, his eyes apparently roaming downward to his feet, or perhaps it was just an attempt to nod. God, my brain hadn't really started functioning yet.

"Thank you again, Marcus."

"It was no trouble," he reassured. Turning his attention to Killua, Marcus stretched his arm. "Hey," he called before tossing the car key. Killua easily caught it. "Take good care of yourself."

I just smiled in response, watching him as he left, though I was actually feeling a _little_ wave of guilt. Marcus didn't deserve to be this out of the picture; I hadn't exactly told him anything, never really opened to him like I used to. Keeping anything from Marcus wasn't something I would normally do, few days ago.

I eyed my reflection warily in the wall mirror. The fact that the person looking back at me in the mirror was a distinctly crazier version of myself didn't exactly make me feel better, but this gave me a lot of time to think, and I'd come to a somewhat troubling conclusion. Despite his pushy, curious wanna-know-it-all behavior, his overly emotive face when he's around me, his maniacal hand talking, and his unsettlingly huge, and I mean _huge_, eyes, I actually liked Marcus, a lot. I mean I sometimes kind of wanted to lure him out into the woods and take him out with a shovel, but I liked him. I probably needed to have a small chat with him in the following days.

I tried to rearrange my now frizzy hair in an acceptable manner. "Why do I look like I was bitten by a vampire with bad aim?" I wondered out loud. I was really paler than usual, really pale. I mean, Casper-level pale. Was it because I needed more than three hours of beauty sleep? Was it possible that what happened last night affected me so much that these were merely the aftershocks?

There was clearly something very wrong with this area around the auction building. Maybe it was all the water, like it seeped inside people's heads and rotted their brains, or something. That would certainly explain a lot about my mind lately, but Kurapika and Gon seemed fine to me, and so did Killua… most of the time. Marcus lived here his entire life and he was a very rational person. So maybe waterlogged and rotting brains weren't the issue, but there was definitely something going on here.

Maybe that was the emotions' effect on me?

Maybe it was some kind of water poisoning, a kind that only affected some people, and possibly me, because I couldn't remember being quite this crazy back home.

Killua appeared over my shoulder in the mirror. "What did you just say?"

"What did I say?" Shit, I said something from that inner rambling out loud?

_Oh, no. What the hell happened to my mental filter?_

"Something about water poisoning. What does that mean?" I was definitely freaking him out; he seemed very alarmed. Maybe he hadn't been water poisoned, because that was a very logical response.

"You know," I screeched, flapping my hands around. Killua flinched slightly at the pitch, but moved closer anyway.

"I really don't."

"Like because of all the water and now it's poisoning us."

"You are aware that doesn't make any sense, right?" He reached out, wrapping a hand around my upper arm, either in an effort to comfort or restrain me. Possibly both.

"I can't think straight, and none of this makes any sense. It's like_ things happening _inside my head, and none of it makes sense."

"And by_ things happening_ you mean you can't think straight?"

"Yes. We just need to find some kind of cure, like humidifiers… but the opposite, because they make things wet and that's what we're trying to avoid."

Killua chuckled, he actually _chuckled_, ducking his head in an attempt to hide his amused smile from me, very ineffectually I might add.

"Yuki, nobody is being poisoned, and if anybody is it's certainly not by water."

"Fine, what's your explanation then," I muttered irritably, scowling up at him. He gave me that bright smile again that almost made my scowl melt, but I fought it, because he was laughing at me, damn it.

He stared at me through the mirror, his eyes moving across the blood stain that decorated my white shirt, finally coming back to my eyes. "Have you considered the possibility that you're just tired?"

"No," I scoffed.

"Well maybe you should."

"I lived in my uncle's house for _years_ and I was practically sane—" I frowned at my choice of words, so I added, "—almost. Which I enjoyed, by the way. Then I moved here and all of a sudden I'm acting all weird. That doesn't just happen."

"Maybe you just had sun poisoning," Killua said with a smirk.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"_I'm_ being ridiculous?" he asked incredulously. "I know for a fact that the sun can be very harmful."

"Yeah, but that just… doesn't happen to normal people."

"Because skin cancer is harmless?"

"It's not," I sighed in frustration, hitting him lightly on the arm. "I'm talking about _brains_, Killua. I'm talking about people being affected in the brain."

Killua started laughing again.

"This isn't funny."

"It really is. I wish you could hear yourself right now."

"Killua," I groaned, smacking him on the arm again.

"Why are you hitting me?"

"You're making fun of me."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You're mocking me."

"Yuki, you're standing in your friend's bedroom ranting about _water poisoning_. That's not even a thing."

"It totally is."

"No, it isn't."

"Okay, I don't know how much longer I can have this conversation. I'm not even entirely sure what we're talking about anymore."

"I was talking about crazy people and then you made it weird."

"Right, _I_ made it weird," he muttered, running his hand over his face. "Let's go back now."

I had that feeling that I probably shouldn't leave him weirded out because of me. I was definitely at least a little bit crazy, because of that thing that I thought was gradually changing, also because something that was normally uncomfortable and annoying, hunger pains, suddenly made me smile like an idiot because they reminded me of why I didn't eat normally in the last two days.

I reached up on my toes and briefly kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for staying with me."

Killua looked uncomfortable and as I'd expected, placed his hands in his pockets. "N-no problem."

My cousin once told me that first impressions are very important when you're supposed to be going out with a guy, and how you should plan that ahead of time. Not that I was sure Killua and I were exclusive; we were not dating, not officially, but there was definitely something going on. Which probably meant that I was supposed to pay more attention to the way I acted around him starting now. I kept putting that off, because I didn't want to deal with it yet. I didn't want to figure out who the heck Date Yuki was, and how she'd like to behave. Now there was no _ahead of time_ left.

I was still not entirely clear what Date Yuki was. Was this some kind of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde thing? Was it a hormonal thing?

"Yuki—"

God, I couldn't do this. I was not mentally prepared for this. Why did this have to be complicated in any way? I was fine spending time with Killua; I looked forward to it even, but call it _dating_ and all of a sudden I was worrying full of dread and anxiety was terribly cliché.

"Yuki—"

I only knew how Regular Yuki acted. Why couldn't this be a Regular Yuki thing? That would be so much simpler, but instead it was a big deal. People make all very official.

I'm sure this was one of those times I was supposed to stick my head between my knees before I hyperventilated myself unconscious. There might be some mild rocking as well.

I was being silly. This was clearly an overly extreme reaction. There might be something going on, for the first time in my life, but it's with _Killua_. The smug, annoying guy I always wanted to beat mercilessly. I knew Killua. I liked Killua. He probably liked me too, and I was sure that he wouldn't stop just because I was being too much like me. That didn't even make sense.

"_Yuki!_"

Dammit, I was snoozing again. "Yes?"

"Why are you smiling like that?" Killua asked suspiciously.

"I'm not smiling like anything."

"Yes, you are. I have eyes, you know."

We were outside the building, walking along the sidewalk. The sun was very hot and bright, something unusual for this city. The air was warm and moist, very unusual for this city. I watched in silence as the passersby strut by hurriedly and quenched their thirst, drinking from their cans of carbonated water.

I looked up to find Killua smiling at me. Actually I thought he might be laughing.

"You better not be laughing at me," I warned playfully.

"Nah. Although if I was, it would probably be because of all the strange little faces you've been making, which would obviously not be my fault." His finger reached up to poke my cheek.

His smile grew as my face flushed.

With a scowl I muttered, "My face is not strange."

"Excuse me." We moved slightly so a woman could pass. "Thanks," she whispered. I give her a sheepish smile, while she gave me an apologetic smile for parting Killua and I, or perhaps that was how I interpreted her smile. Did she know? Maybe women really could sense these kinds of things. I mean I couldn't, but that was not really saying a lot.

"You're making faces again."

"Stop making fun of my face," I said. "My face is not strange. Everybody keeps telling me how abnormal I am. I'm going to get a complex."

He smiled. Reaching up to brush his fingers against my cheek, he briefly touched the corner of my cheekbone with his thumb. "I'm fairly certain I've never called you abnormal – quirky maybe, but that's not the same thing at all."

"Quirky's fine, as long as it's not… you know." I reached up and moved his hand away from my face. "Your hand is cold." And distracting, very distracting.

"We should get going."

I agreed with a nod. "The weather is beautiful. Let's walk."

The noon was falling. There was the smell of clay and the stagnant water heavy in the air, earthy and rich. It didn't bother me like it did before. It was amazingly impossible how his effect on me was that instantaneous. It didn't make any sense, but it would be obligatory for me to admit that my body felt alight and inflamed.

Pulling me out of my another momentary distraction, I felt my hand suddenly enclosed in warmth. My eyes glanced down to see Killua's stiff fingers wrapped around it, and then back at his serious expression. "You do realize you're not wearing any shoes, right?"

I blinked and looked down at my feet, as I remembered how I kicked my shoes off last night before the hide and seek game. I foolishly grinned back at him. "Yeah, so?"

"Aren't you freezing?"

"A little," I admitted. "But common, it's fine. It hardly gets sunny in this city."

"That's true." He dropped his other hand in his pocket as we blindly headed to the street. He looked like he was searching for something. "But we can't just leave Leorio's car here. He must've been going crazy right now."

"Oh, true," I said in understanding.

Killua rapidly looked around him. "Where is it, by the way?"

I joined him, whipping my head around. "No idea."

"You don't remember where Marcus parked it last night?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "_You_ were the one who parked it."

This held his attention and he stopped walking. "I don't remember any of that."

"You were kind of wiped out."

"If I was wiped out or whatever, then why can't _you_ remember where the car is?"

I slapped his shoulder in censure with my free hand. "How could you ask me that? I was busy freaking out!"

"Right." Killua nodded. "Anyway, we can set off the alarm of—" He hit the panic button on the key and the hidden car made a horrendous racket. The sound was ricocheting off the walls of the parking lot which had earned us funny looks from the passersby.

A little mortified, I ignored them. "Turn if _off_! It's so LOUD!"

"I'm _trying_!" Killua yelled back, hitting all the buttons on the key. As the deafening sound continued to get even more disturbing, Killua gave up and rushed to open the passenger door, and the sound stopped.

"Such a smartass."

He grinned.

After I was settled in the car he went around to the other side and got in beside me.

Killua made effort to notice the pond of dried blood that laid on his side. "We really should wash the car before handing it over to its owner."

"Yeah, no kidding," I agreed. He started the car and pulled it out of the parking space. It was then that I noticed how fast he was driving. We took a corner at lightning speed. My right foot started pressing into the floorboard. "Can you slow down? Déjà vu's from last night are flying clean over my head." I waved a hand across the top of my head.

"Why? I'm not crossing the speed limit," he argued. A horn blared behind us. Killua floored the gas pedal, sending us flying through the intersection and throwing me back against my seat. "Besides, I'm an excellent driver." He looked at me with a crooked smile.

"Eyes on the road!" I thrust his other hand, which was by his side, at the steering wheel, trying to wrap it there. "I think you need both of those, you know, so you don't try to _kill us_ again. You're not a speed racer." The threat of imminent death must have restored some of my brain function.

"Last night was an exception. I was kind of wiped out," he retorted. I tried in vain to come up with an appropriately sarcastic comment, to no avail.

"Still. You still need both hands if you're going to drive like a maniac!" I was babbling to take my mind off my fear of our light speed travel. "Seriously, Killua, if you don't slow down, I'm gonna have to kill you."

Killua laughed, "Are you threatening to kill me because you're afraid I'm gonna kill myself?"

"I'm threatening to have you killed to avoid you being obnoxious now that you know you're gonna kill yourself. You really need to work on getting your facts straight."

One corner of his mouth kicked up, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm thinking I should write one of those 'If I die under suspicious circumstances' type of letters, and then hide it somewhere safe, just in case."

"I don't think you're supposed to tell me _that_," I said petulantly, crossing my arms across my chest. We'd stopped at a red light, and he turned to look at me, crooked grin in place.

"Of course I am. Now you know that if you kill me you'll get caught. I just have to make sure you don't know where it is."

"Keep in mind I'm a hunter and my friend is a detective. You may want to consider that if you're going to start throwing around accusations."

"I wouldn't be throwing around anything. I'd be dead."

I just looked at him. I had no response for that statement. But I said anyway, "Well then you'd really be screwed."

Killua laughed again. "Why are we talking about this?"

"You started it."

"You always blame me. I don't have conversations like this with other people. I don't do anything. It's all you. You are the sole source of our bizarre conversation topics." He gave me a kind of look, and I scowled at him. "I quite like that about you," he added with a small smile.

"Don't try to distract me with your flattery."

"Oh come on, that was smooth."

I actually hated that I smiled at that. "Shut up, I'm trying to threaten you." I tried and made my face look as threatening as possible, which meant I probably looked like a Teletubby with indigestion.

"Oh, am I not reacting in a suitably intimidated fashion?"

"Seriously, just shut up." I shook my head and turned away to look out the window. "You made me forget what I was going to say."

He seemed clearly very pleased with himself. "Did you even have a point when you started this conversation?"

"I think I have some kind of brain infection that's making me crazy."

"You're not going to start talking about water poisoning again, are you?" Killua groaned.

"No, that's not what I mean."

"Do you mean like syphilis?"

"I don't have syphilis," I replied defensively.

"I said _like_ syphilis," he corrected.

"Oh. Well, maybe. Besides, we're done talking about water poisoning. I only started talking about it because we were in Marcus' room." Killua frowned, so I explained, "That place kind of reminded me of it. I wouldn't think of that in here. There isn't any water here."

"If you're trying to say you wouldn't have thought of water poisoning because it wouldn't be rational, then I say bullshit. Rationality has nothing to do with the places your mind goes."

"There's method to my madness."

"Once again, bullshit."

"It's not bullshit. There is."

"What about the cannibal cupcakes?" he asked with a smirk.

"That was _a dream_, Killua. I cannot be held responsible for the contents of my dreams."

"So your crazy is rational, because if it isn't rational then you're not responsible for it? I'm not sure how legitimate that is as an argument."

"I can't remember what we were talking about in the beginning," I realized, rubbing my temples.

"You wanted to kill me."

"Oh, yes. I still do, but I suppose I could settle for permanent damage of some kind."

"What, like I lose an arm?"

"You don't lose it, you just… lose the use of it. You don't really need both arms you know."

We'd stopped at another red light. Killua turned to stare at me calculatingly for a moment, before leaning forward. "What about if I buy you lunch when we arrive? Do you think I might escape with no permanent damage?"

"Are you seriously trying to bribe me with the building's cafeteria food?"

His initial response was just a smirk, but then all of a sudden he looked very serious. Did I offend him? There was no way he thought cafeteria food was a good offer. Maybe he had some secret love of greasy mediocre food I wasn't aware of.

"Well then maybe I should take you to a real dinner," he said after a moment.

I blinked. I'm pretty sure it was the only part of me that moved.

Did he mean…? No, but… why was he smiling like that? So it was really happening. I'd barely just figured out how I was feeling, and it was way too early right now to try to tackle what he might be feeling. Maybe I was over thinking this. I made a nonsensical you-are-my-cupcake comment. Did he _not_ understand that my brain was not functioning right now? Maybe I should say something.

"Um…" Dammit.

"What's wrong?" he asked. Of course he would ask that.

"Well…" I began awkwardly, shifting restlessly in my seat. "I was freaking myself out earlier about how Date Yuki should be, and how I was told that you're not supposed to act like you're hanging out with someone when you're on a date."

"Date Yuki?"

"I think it's supposed to be some kind of alternate personality reserved for dates," I clarified.

"I'm not sure I like that idea. You were the main reason I was asking you out, you know." We both blushed at that. "Besides, it doesn't have to be a date."

I almost sighed in relief. "So you weren't asking me out?"

"You're gonna know when I ask you out," he said, nodding for emphasis.

"Alright." I was pretty sure that every red blood cell in my body was currently vying for a spot in my cheeks. "Thank you for slowing down, by the way." He just smiled back, not really looking at me anymore. After a few moments his fingers starts tapping on the steering wheel, and his exposed arms got all my attention all of a sudden, as I observed the scars without letting him notice. I brought together all of the pieces in my mind so I could develop some sort of understanding of what he had gone through in order to get them.

"Have you ever thought about suicide?"

The question clearly took him off guard; he wasn't expecting such a simple inquiry, but nonetheless, he controlled his expression. "Where did _that_ come from?"

"Uhh…" I needed a smart answer. "When we were talking about cults, you suggested murdering and _mass suicide_, remember?"

His expression didn't change. "Yeah, but I was joking."

"Well…?" I promoted.

"Have_ you_?"

I smiled to myself. I was kind of expecting such a retort. Killua had this habit of answering a question with a question when he felt like avoiding the subject. "No," I lied, but made sure my tone sounded definite.

"You do not believe it may be comforting for few cases?"

I swallowed and my hands twitched. I didn't like his question. I also didn't like the fact that he had become the interviewer all of a sudden. "Maybe," I said. "But I didn't get to know your comment about this."

"I told you. It may be comforting for few cases," he replied.

"Not _that_," I interjected, a little impatient. "I meant the first question. You didn't give me an answer."

He rolled the steering wheel all the way to the right and parked the car in front the auction building. "We're here."

Huh. I hadn't even noticed.

"But I thought we were going to wash the car," I complained.

Killua nodded, leaning forward and unfastening my seat belt. "I'll go by myself. You should go check on Kurapika and the others. And of course, apologize to Leorio on my behalf."

Unsatisfied, I opened my door. "Alright." I unfolded myself from the warm seat. "Drive slowly," I made sure to say before shutting the door.

* * *

Kurapika was insufferable. He blamed himself for what happened last night, and refused to listen to any of my consolations―or Senritsu's, which was even worse. From what I understood, last night was something he wasn't prepared for. More than three hundred officers were dead, but no one saw the Spiders. The officers were shot to death. Their corpses were still there. The spiders never left corpses behind, which led me to doubt their arrival in the first place. But no one could pull off such a mass murder in the middle of a public place like them, which was confusing. Was it them? If it wasn't them, who was it? Who would do something like that, and most importantly, _why_? The treasures were untouched, none of the important guests was harmed or kidnapped. Jei, who was supposed to be the new shiny toy, was safe.

No one knew what happened. It was a riddle no one could solve.

Either the attacker was a sick, homicidal, irrational, body-mutilating person, or there was something else. Something that explained everything and made more sense, but no one could grasp it.

After trying so hard to get into Kurapika's glum mode, and failing, I decided to leave his office. When I stepped outside, I felt long fingers curling around my arm.

"At least you tried," Leorio told me, a reassuring smile on his face.

"He wouldn't listen to me. It wasn't his fault," I said grimly. I hated how helpless I was. I hated that I wasn't there.

He sighed. "That bad?"

I nodded.

I felt slightly relieved when I saw Leorio's smile again. He winked and squeezed my shoulder. "Leave him to me. I'll deal with it."

"Okay, but don't yell at him."

"Yelling works sometimes," Leorio objected.

"Not now," I pleaded.

He smiled. "Okay."

"Sorry for stealing your car by the way."

"I don't care about that. What matters is that you have returned it―safely."

It was a miracle _we_ had returned safely.

Speaking of which: "Oh, have you seen Killua?"

"He said something about taking a nap," Leorio answered. "Wake him up. I'll go now." He turned the knob of the door.

I nodded with a smile. "Good luck."

* * *

**Killua's PoV**

My eyes opened wearily. I felt absolutely wide awake. Someone was shaking me.

Yuki sat on my bed, her face hidden from me. She was silent and still, the only thing moving was her hand that was shaking me. Frowning in worry, I sat up straight and saw her face. It was unreadable, almost terrified.

Voices in my head wheezed._ What happened? Is Kurapika okay? Has Gon done something idiotic? Or is it worse?_

I rubbed my eyes from the sudden impact of the dim light. Red. The entire room was red. "What is it?"

I touched her arm, but she didn't respond.

"What is it, Yuki?"

"Is it true?" Her voice cracked.

I looked at the other side of the room. And I saw his ghost.

The ghost's eyes were precisely the color of ash after the last ember's death. The light in them bordered both amusement and confrontation. His long, silky hair was falling over his face like a cloak and his lank white skin was glowing against the faint light. His sharp features were hidden under the icy mask I'd learned to hate over the years.

Not a ghost―similar, scarier.

Illumi.

I sat for one long moment in total astonishment. My mind went blank. I couldn't think of what to say.

"Is it true?" she repeated, her voice losing its even edge. The sweet and airy overtone was gone. Hoarsely, she shouted, "Answer me!"

I looked at Illumi. "What did you do?" My own voice was hard, cynical. "What did you do to her?"

His facial expression didn't change. It was like I hadn't spoken. "What you couldn't do. Honesty."

_Voices._

I started hearing voices.

Wounded, shocked, I was on my feet now. I felt like every nerve in my body was suddenly awakened, charged with a glorious energy. I stared at her wordlessly. "Yuki—"

"Damn you, Killua! Just tell me if it's true or not!" Her hands started to tremble. I heard her teeth grind together. "How hard is it to say it? It's just a goddamn word!"

Dangerously, I stared at Illumi. He didn't even flinch.

"Is this the way of showing your gratitude to your brother, Kil?" Illumi's tone was cold. Fierce and fixed. Like a machine. "I redeemed you from that struggle. I rescued you from being enslaved by the torture of keeping that secret."

I couldn't move. I was in shock, a quiescent mime unable to respond.

Casually, he continued, "You have inhabited yourself in weakness."

His words slammed against my temples fast and furious. I took a deep breath, restraining from yelling in his face. Standing in silence, I prayed, _This is just an April Fool's joke in the middle of September. _Motionless, breath trapped inside my throat, I waited and waited and waited.

But nothing happened. This was really happening.

The voices were back.

_Screams_.

They were more like screams.

"I refused to think you would have fallen prey to such an emotion. What a shame, brother."

Swallowing the despair clawing at me, I mustered myself. "It only proves that I'm a human."

Why was I defending myself to him?

Why did it always feel so important?

Everything was over now.

"So, it's true," Yuki chocked out. "This was all just a big lie."

I kept myself from touching her, perfectly knowing that it would make this worse. I was completely, maddeningly in control of myself. "No it wasn't," I muttered.

She couldn't contain the low sob that broke in her voice. "How could you?"

I was hoping she wouldn't say that.

The screams got louder.

Screams of torment. Screams I'd heard before. They were thundering evilly in my ears. Roaring for dominance.

"It was meant to be," Illumi cut in. "The Zaoldyecks are remarkably capable of everything."

I closed my eyes for a second, balling my hands into fists. "Shut up," I ordered both Illumi and the voices.

Illumi's eyes grew flat. I had hit a nerve; crossing an unspoken line. "Feel free to correct me if I am wrong, Kil."

"How could you?" Yuki sounded like a destroyed record; repeating everything over and over again.

The bloodcurdling screams got louder and louder. Clearer.

"Shut up," I spoke to Yuki this time. "Just shut up."

"You have turned to be a big disappointment, Kil." Illumi's voice sounded more dead.

I had the look of a person whose sight has been suddenly resorted but who finds the light unbearable.

I needed the screams to stop.

"How could you do this to me?" Yuki squealed.

_Shut up. Shut up. Shut up._

"I said _SHUT UP_!" I buried a hand in her chest, claws sinking deeply until it pierced her heart and the other curved around her side to hold her in an unbreakable grip. She gasped—gasped in pain.

There was nothing there anymore. The blame. The guilt. The voices. Everything just disappeared.

Turned out, the quiet was not the salvation I needed.

She wasn't there anymore. Just me. And Illumi.

Her form withered on the floor. She desperately attempted to draw a light breath.

I blankly turned to Illumi, my own face emotionless, slack. But not his.

He was smirking. Keenly,_ joyfully_, watching me losing another little piece of my soul, whispering the words that I was almost used to hearing:

"Father would be proud."

It stopped. It all stopped. Her lids closed slowly. Blood cushioning her.

Her body remained still. Empty. Lifeless.

The endless ocean of grief stretched out before me.

…

I jolted upright, shocked out of the dream.

The room was lit by the pale streaming fingers of the moon that shone through the windows. It was also steamy hot. Sweat roved my hair at the temples and rolled down my throat. I tried to breathe normally. The nausea had passed as suddenly as it had come. _Just a dream_, I convinced myself. _Not real_.

But it was so very real. Sensory even. I thought about that for a moment. My entire body shook as I tried to shake off the remnants of the dream. I wished I could burn the images from my mind. These kind of Illumi-nightmares had plagued me for five years. Tragedy after tragedy had plagued me and only added to my nightmares. It was only in the last year that I had finally started to grow out of them.

No such luck.

"So, are you going to explain what you did a few hours ago?" came a voice from the room.

It startled me like a slap in the face—a real adrenaline bolt. "_Holy shit_!" I turned my head only to see Jei sprawled lazily on the chair beside my bed. His hand clutching a DS which I assumed was consoling him as he waited for me to wake up. "What are you doing here watching me like a creep?" I spat out. "Get the hell out!"

He stared back gruffly. "I'm just here to make sure you haven't completely lost your mind. Have you?"

Damn this boy to Everest.

I shook my head fast. He waited. "Don't tell anyone about the bullet story," I warned. "It's no big deal, and no one is supposed to know about that. Especially Gon."

He rolled his eyes and looked at me dead on before warily responding, "No, not that. I wasn't talking about that, actually. Well, certainly what you did was quite stupid and you practically deserve a medal for being the most foolish person alive, but no." He got back to his DS. "I didn't mean that. I was talking about the snogging that happened."

I raised an eyebrow annoyingly. "Snogging?"

He rolled his eyes again. "You know…when people kiss and stuff?"

His vague interest irritated me. I pretended that I never heard the 'and stuff' part, and said, "I freakin' know what snogging means. But what made you think I was going to talk to _you_ about that?"

"Because you are giving_ me_ a headache," Jei replied, almost in a whine. "It's been occupying your mind since you came back here."

I felt my skin flushing warm at this accusation. "One, this is none of your business. And two, nothing is occupying my mind."

He soundlessly snickered. "News flash: I use my eyes to see into people's thoughts. It's _kinda_ impossible to lie to me."

My glare in his direction was ferocious and unguarded. I had no idea why I was allowing him to mess with my brain like that. I wanted to just kill him.

"Killing me won't change that reality you know," Jei scolded quietly.

I clenched my teeth together. I hated this little bastard. I couldn't find him likable in any way. _  
_

"Really, the amount of time you spend thinking about her is unnatural," Jei continued. He suddenly wrinkled his nose. "Her and chocolates. Oh right, why do you think about chocolates so much?"_  
_

I found myself more inclined to tear off his limbs. "What do you want? My temper is quite hot when I wake up."

Jei was silent for a moment. "You're making a mistake. You shouldn't have done that." He paused for one beat. "I mean, what the heck were you thinking? This is going to destroy her when she finds out the truth."

I could feel myself scowling as I considered his words. "This isn't going to happen."

Jei made a noise of scorn and swore under his breath. "Gosh, you're crazier than I thought. What, do you think you can keep the secret forever? That she'll never know about your dirty past sooner or later?"

I sighed deeply, deciding not to listen to any more of this. "Look, I'll take care of that. Would you be a dear and keep your nose out of this?"

To be honest, I was not so sure about that—taking care of the situation, I mean. But what was I supposed to say? I didn't have to tell him that I was half-past crazy. The sickness in my head was obvious.

"No, you are unable to face yourself. This is a battle that's lost before it starts," Jei said. "Geez, you're not even planning to confront her! Well, alright, let's talk years from now. Hypothetically speaking. What about your surname? Isn't it supposed to be required in the wedding?"

"That's not a problem. I would use an alias or some shit," I answered with a shrug.

_Great. Now I'm not making any sense._

Jei's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. "What the—hold on a second! You're honestly thinking about marrying her?" He smirked. "Dude, I was joking!"

I calmly looked at him, trying to ignore the hint of panic that flashed in my heart. "Of course not, I was _hypothetically_ talking. I'm not considering anything."

"Killua," Jei began again, addressing me with my name for the very first time. "Use―" He drummed his temple with his forefinger "―this for a minute. Your brain. Your rational thinking. There is no future between you two. It's impossible."

I wanted to tell him to shut up, but he wasn't completely wrong.

Jei's face softened, and he sank back against the chair, turning on his DS once again. "I don't know why I bothered. This goddamn discussion isn't going anywhere."

I growled under my breath. And against my will, I took the brat's advice and thought about this from every possible direction. The nightmare. It could be a sign. Maybe it was trying to tell me something. But what if it didn't need to be something morbid? Ugh.

_None of this makes sense._

The unfocused thoughts danced around inside my skull like a troubled swarm of bees. It grated on my nerves.

_Maybe I really was losing my mind._

"Duh," Jei answered my thoughts again. "You are _totally_ out of your mind."

"Okay, would you stop doing that? It's creeping me out." I stood up from the bed. "Where is everyone?"

"_She_ is in her room with Gon. Wanna join them?"

I nodded.

* * *

"Mike Hyuna," I said when we were in Yuki's room later this evening.

"Meh," she said, shrugging. "I'll give it five out of ten."

"Wait a sec," Gon clarified. "You take your first pet name and the name of the street you live on now? That's your porn name?" he asked, and I nodded. "How do you know this?"

Jei scoffed. "You're such a prude, Gon. Everyone knows this. It's like the first thing you learn when you hit puberty."

"Then how do _you_ know this?" I asked woodenly.

Jei glared at me. "Ha ha ha. Look who's funny today."

"I still think Mike Hyuna is an excellent porn name," I insisted.

"Would you watch a porno with a guy named Hyuna in it?" Jei asked.

I shuddered. "Would I watch a porno with a guy in it?"

"Let's not talk about Killua's sexual proclivities, please," Gon said, his face scrunching up. "It's nauseating. He's like my brother."

I tried to look offended as Jei teased, "Maybe you would, Killua. I don't know what you're into."

"Well, just ask—" I stopped short, and I realized what I was about to say: "Just ask Yuki."

Trying to skip past my near-mistake as quickly as possible, Yuki diverted the conversation back. "Mine would be… Ringo Springview."

"It sounds very porn star-y," Jei commented. "'Ringo' might be confusing. Why would you name your pet _Ringo_?"

Yuki shrugged. "She was a very round ginger hamster―she did look like an apple."

"Mine would be Porky Hyuna," Gon announced. I snickered. "Shut up, Killua. Porky was the only pet I had."

"You kept it for _one_ day," I interjected. "He was crapping all over the place, that stupid pig."

"Whoa, Gon, you named your pig 'Porky'?" Yuki laughed. "That's some imagination you had there," she said sarcastically.

Gon shot us a dirty look. "It was a play on words!"

"A _stupid_ play on words," I retorted.

"Alright, children. Break it up, or we'll have to send you to your rooms," Jei said. "Mine would be Barker Franklin."

Gon grinned. "That sounds like a president name!"

Taking advantage of Gon and Jei's conversation, I nudged Yuki's knee with mine, mimicking the way she was sitting by leaning on my elbows. "Hey," I murmured. She hummed, unconsciously turning her head so her ear was closer to me. "Are you going to Leorio's wedding?"

"Ah, yes. Akaia asked me to go, remember?" she answered absently. She somehow twisted her entire body so our shoulders were brushing. I couldn't help but notice that she was sitting so close, right there next to me, so close to me that if I were to bend my elbow the slightest bit, my hand would graze hers.

So I _accidentally_ bent my elbow, and said, "Maybe we could go together."

She finally faced me, wide eyes met mine, her eyebrows raised. Her quick blink showed me her surprise. But, as usual, she recovered fast. I could tell she was contemplating everything. Last night, this morning, my face, my tone, this moment, as she tilted her head gently to the side and said, "You want me to go as your date? Or―"

"Do you wanna be my date?"

I watched as she pursed her plush, pink lips, pulling her bottom one between her teeth. My mouth was suddenly dry; from thirst or something more, I was unsure. "I don't know. Do I?" she asked seriously, like I should know the answer to that. I felt warm all over and the compulsive need to grin.

So I did.

Her lips parted slightly. I wanted them on mine.

Then she grinned, too. "Why are you smiling?"

"Why are _you_ smiling?"

"I'm smiling because _you_'re smiling." And then suddenly, all the thoughts in my head crumbled to incoherent pieces as I felt her finger stroke mine softly where our hands were almost touching, obscured from anyone else's sight.

It was barely a motion, and I reasoned that it was probably just an accident, just moving her hand until—

_Stroke_.

So very slow.

_Stroke_.

Just the run of the tip of her pinky down the length of mine.

_Stroke._

But definitely on purpose.

_Stroke_.

She smiled and finally answered, "I think I really want to."

"Cool," I replied calmly, suppressing a smile.

_Stroke_.

"Cool."

_Stro_—

Her phone beeped, and her finger pulled away mid-stroke. I think I really wanted her to finish that last sweep from top to bottom, and I didn't even know why.

She typed something quickly and put her phone back in her pocket, but didn't bring her hand back, chatting away with Gon and Jei as if nothing had happened. Nothing had, really, just the few rubs of her littlest finger against my littlest one. But I felt like steam, hot and not solid, and the absolute, undeniable truth hit me.

It was definitely too late to go back to what we were―what I was before her. If only I knew where to go from here.

* * *

**A/N: **Jei/Killua scenes amuse me. They're both huge, sweet jerks.

I got another fanart for the story. This time from the spectacular_ KiGaMi99_. It's of Yuki and a baby Killua wearing a kimono. It's absolutely adorable. The link is in my profile page. Go check it out. Like right now.

Leave me your thoughts!


	20. Once In a Lullaby

**I'm nothing more than a fan.**

******A/N:** Pretty late, I know, but don't think I'd come back without some new stuff. Now because this is the twentieth chapter anniversary, I'm going to present something very new and fresh here. There is a flashforward at the end of the chapter. It's a part of the Epilogue. I just have a small request which is not to let this confuse you, and try not to jump into conclusions.

* * *

_**20. Once In a Lullaby**_

* * *

A small bowl of chocolate-covered strawberries was placed before my eyes as I sprawled lazily on my stomach on the floor. My hands against my cheeks, making a fish-face. I brushed my fingers over the glossy fruit and brought it to my lips, biting into the soft flesh and tasting the chocolate syrup which melted quaintly on my tongue.

Killua's hands were deep in his pockets as he watched me with a dead gaze; a question obviously on his mind. I ignored him, knowing he would broach the subject when ready.

"Do you think strawberries would taste good on a cookie dough?"

"That's one hell of a random question. But yes, I guess so."

He tugged the fruit from the bowl and brought it close to his face. He turned it in his hands, peering at it from all angles. After a few minutes of scrutinizing it, he dropped it in his mouth. "Do you think strawberries are sexy?" I snickered soundlessly. He frowned. "What?"

"Nothing, but are you celebrating Strawberry Day?"

"I'm just wondering why people make sexual references when they eat strawberries," Killua conceded. "Fruits can do that?"

I brought my index finger to my bottom lip and considered this. "I think the idea of peaches is sexy, and cherries are metaphorically sexy, and strawberries are sexy looking, but the act of eating a grapefruit is way sexier than eating any of those. You have to be really committed to eating a grapefruit. I mean, you could maybe go for a walk and eat a peach. And you could pop cherries in your mouth one after another while laying on your bed. But when you're eating a grapefruit, that's all you're doing. It's all about the grapefruit."

Killua wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Then he took out another piece from the bowl and examined it before turning to me. "Looks like someone has a slight obsession with grapefruits."

"Fine, let me hear your theories."

Killua ogled the fruit and smirked. "I think strawberries are a work of art with their vivid, bloody, red color with a texture like roughened silk and a sweet bitter taste that's comparable only to let you drown in its bright color and the ticking of leafy green as you swallow the sweet substance down with juice running down your mouth like the sweet nectar of life. Sexy."

"…"

He turned serious again. "What now?"

"You need to sleep."

"You think so?"

"Uh-ah." I lifted my weight to sit next to him and grasped the strawberry he had between his fingers before I quickly swallowed it. Smooth, rich chocolate, coating my mouth with sweetness and hitting my throat with a hint of bitterness.

When I finished chewing, I stared down at my hands, noticing the sinful dark stains of chocolate on my middle and index finger. I brought them to my mouth, enjoying a brief taste, then stole a glance up at Killua who was watching me intently.

I dropped my fingers quickly, my eyes wandering around the room as they fled his stare.

"You got some chocolate on your lip," he observed casually. In the mother of all crazy moves, I let my tongue snake out briefly while my cheeks gained a pink tinge. I tasted nothing but skin.

"Missed." Came his small chuckle, and suddenly his bare thumb had come up, wiping gently along the corner of my mouth in a movement that seemed to last forever. It faintly brushed my lips, pausing there for an eternity as I watched the surprisingly calm face behind the hand. And then he pulled away, bringing it to his own lips and allowing the chocolate to dissolve on his tongue.

"Delicious," he remarked softly.

My face felt hot. My lips were tingling ever so slightly where he had touched as if some remnant of him had rubbed off on me. I wiped a hand against my mouth while avoiding his eyes.

I didn't think it could, but Killua's smile only grew more, bottom lip stretching down so I got to see the full glory of his grin. We said nothing for a few moments, and tried not to not stare as I snunk glances at the way he licked the rivulets of melting chocolate on his lip. He brooded for a moment as the taste in his mouth faded. A sigh of resignation was heard before he said, "You compared me to chocolate once." He shot me a playful glance that was coupled by a small smirk. "Why?"

"Actually, I'd rather compare you to dark chocolate. And about the reason, well it was a combination of things really," I explained. "Dark on the outside, light on the inside. Bitter at first, then sweeter. And when you've got a little taste of it, you can't help but want more." The statement was innocent on the surface but it also held a deeper meaning and a possibly suggestive message.

Killua pondered this for a moment and then let out the most wicked smile. I hid my face in my hands. "And I should _not_ have said that," I said lamely. "Is there any chance I could make you forget what you just heard?"

"Umm, no. I won't. This is far too amusing to forget. You really should have paid more attention to your choice of wo—" I interrupted him by hastily kissing him. He responded immediately, cautiously, unsure of my intentions, though he did respond, and it was involuntary, the shiver that incited.

His lips, though cold, were sweet from the strawberry and sweet in their intent. They tasted a bit like dark chocolate now, a bit more like warmth and sin, and a bit more like perfect. The kiss was clumsy, of course. He was being courteous to the fact that we were in the auction building, but I melted against him anyway, uncontrollable tingles flooded my body with their light happiness.

As we finally parted, his eyes opened bright with wonderment, and I was pleased I could invoke this sort of a reaction.

"So, what about now?" I asked with a wicked smile of my own.

"Wow," he said breathlessly. "Your chances are higher than they were a few moments ago." I gave a confident nod, fumes of smug radiating from me. "But I still remember," he pointed out. The warmth from his smile amplified that giddy, perfect feeling from earlier.

"Dammit," I sighed.

A sound of knuckles pounded against the door, and Gon let himself in. His expression appeared incredibly mortified.

"Am I…interrupting something?"

"We are just talking, Gon," Killua assured with a soothing smile.

"What's up?"

"Leorio told me to specifically and personally ask you about the sorts of dessert you would like to be served at his wedding."

With a boyish grin of delight, Killua got up and deepened his hands in his pockets. "Leorio's being considerate of me? I must say I'm surprised. You should tell him that it's going to be a long list."

After giving us two thumbs up, Gon left the room.

Killua walked towards the door. "I guess this is my cue to leave."

I boringly got up and straightened my clothes and hair. Then my eyes twinkled the moment I saw the abandoned bowl. "Wait!" I called as I picked up the last strawberry and swooped to stand in front of him, holding the fruit in my hand. "Taste it."

He momentarily considered this, looking between my fingers and my goofy smirk several times. "Nah, you can have it."

"Oh common! This could be the very best strawberry in the entire world, but you would never know cause you didn't taste it."

The corners of his lips quirked up a little. "Fine." I lifted my hand for him to take a bite and waited him to finish chewing. "Well, you were right. It is tasty." Then he turned that smile on me. He winked at me before shutting the door behind him.

I'd gotten used to him, I had gotten used to him _and _me. My stomach still flipped in a way that was so surprising, so delightful every time I laid eyes on him that sometimes I closed my eyes and opened them just to look at him again, to feel that feeling.

It seemed silly to be enamored this quickly, and yet it seemed impossible that I couldn't resist anything but falling for him.

* * *

I sat alone in one of cafeteria tables in the early morning with a bowl of Corn Flakes and a large glass of water, struggling to keep my eyes open. I hadn't slept well in the last couple of nights. The nightmares had weirdly stopped, but the anxiety and the worry hadn't. I was not sure if it was merely a gut feeling, or some sort of woman's intuition, but I was somehow preparing myself for a raw outpour of emotions that was building up too strongly.

Kurapika had finally recovered from the awfully strict pessimism which had followed him after the Spider's brief visit, and he pleasantly agreed to throw the guilt away and put on the happy mask in order to fully prepare himself to be Leorio's bestman in the wedding which I was not so ready to attend.

The idea of putting myself in Kurapika's shoes was a little outrageous. As a human, I had always been afraid of the idea of being guilty. I perhaps hated it more than I hated being informed of someone's death. Death is…inevitable. Most of the times. It doesn't happen with a choice. On the other hand, it is our own choice to decide whether we want to be guilty or not. And the decision changes everything.

See, that was the kind of emotions I was suffering from when I was supposed to be asleep at night, and before I got caught by Gon. After midnight, he always checked on me whenever he noticed that my room was still lit. We used to sit on the floor in darkness and have a small chitchat until slumber decided to come back to me.

I used to enjoy hearing him talking about his hometown, his kindly sweet aunt, the Hunter Exam and his friendship with Killua. Our voices were almost whispers and our weakly controlled laughter echoed in the silent room. I enjoyed his company the way I enjoyed his smile. Gon's eyes visibly twinkled every time he mentioned his bestfriend's name, and I wondered if such admiration existed in Killua's heart as well.

_"It's like whenever I hear something funny, I look around to see if he thinks it's funny or not," Gon would say. "Even if he's not there. I always look around." He grinned. "Is this cheesy?"_

_I felt myself smiling. "A little bit," I told him and he laughed. "So you two are friends since the Hunter Exam?"_

_"You can say that," Gon answered, bringing his knees to his chest. "We haven't dispersed since then."_

The cafeteria door swung open, and Jei entered. His navy hair tousled and his eyes looking like they had had less sleep than me.

"Morning," I greeted him as he made his way to the counter to order something.

"Yuki," he replied with a nod. Shortly after, he moved with his own bowl to sit in the chair next to mine.

You can say that I was satisfied by such an answer. The fact that Jei actually responded when spoken to without showing any trace of disgust was truly an accomplishment and I would be greedy if I asked for more than that.

"I can't believe they serve cereal for breakfast in this place," Jei muttered in a low complain. "Such a prosaic service," he said that a little louder.

I set down my spoon and he started eating quietly while still wearing his annoyed expression. "What were you expecting? I think cereal is fine. At least it feels like home."

He made a sound of a scoff as he kept his massive attention to his bowl. "Home, yeah." He shook his head. "I don't care about that. I just want a decent breakfast."

I was little taken aback, but smiled. "You know three days from now there is—"

"Leorio's wedding. I am aware of that," Jei grumbled before dropping a spoonful in his mouth. "I'm not so thrilled about that," he lazily admitted. It actually felt nice to find one single person copying your exact same feelings every once and a while.

"And Kurapika is going to—"

"Be Leorio's bestman. I know that too," he snapped again. "I freaking know everything."

I eventually realized that any attempts I had been making to create a normal conversation with him were in vain. It still felt odd that he could know what I planned to say before I did.

I leaned back and stretched my legs in a comfortable manner, deciding to question him instead of uttering facts he already knew about. "Are you planning to attend?"

"Why should I? To be constantly asking every bloke there to stop fantasizing about every chick in the dirtiest way possible? No thank you."

I giggled and brought my arms behind my neck. "You do have a point, though I believe that you probably should go. Well, you need to look into people's eyes in order to figure them out right? You don't have to do that. You're just going to stay with us and avoid eye contact."

He set down his spoon and sent me a bored look. "I'm going to have to look at the groom anyway, and believe me, he is the most sick-minded person among them all."

I sighed and felt a bit of sadness for the boy. "I feel bad for you having to witness that everyday. Like seriously."

"Yah it sucks. You don't want to know how many images of naked chicks I bury in my mind every night because of those imbecile guests here. It's like their only mission in this earth is how to get their–" Jei trailed off visibly blushing and got back to finishing his meal. "Never mind. Just forget about what I said. Please."

I was astonished at how much I was finding Jei likable. "You got that. I truthfully wish you kept that thought in your mind as well."

I could be mistaken, but a tiniest curl formed on Jei's lips to finally present itself as a smile. And it was charming.

"So, I think you should come. We will be there and we will make sure you have a good time," I assured and he instantly gave away his smile to stare coldly at me.

"You will?"

I caught a hint of confused surprise in his tone though he kept his defiant eyes on me. "Of course. Are you doubting our mad skills in providing the perfect entertainment?"

"No, but it doesn't make sense to hear these words coming from you. You hate me," Jei remarked calmly, totally at ease with the way the conversation had turned.

I met his stare with an astounded one. "That is certainly not true. At first, I hated your guts and I wanted you out of this place, but not anymore."

Jei crossed his arms and focused on me for a while. I wondered what kind of thoughts I had in my mind in that instant. "Ha, that's surprising. You are being honest," he pointed out at last. "This rarely happens to me."

"It's because I don't believe you are the threat you made yourself out to be."

"Well, thanks." He took a long sip from his glass of water and almost chocked when loud girly squeaky screams came from behind us. Akaia approached our table accompanied by two of her friends and a little girl around the age of six or seven.

"As I promised you, Yuki, we are here to pick you up," Akaia asserted, her hands on both my shoulders. "We are going to take you shopping and then we will get ready in my house! How are you feeling about that?"

Jei chewed on a spoonful of cereal and tried to hide his smile.

"Er…Akaia, I honestly think that's nice but—"

"Great! Now let's go! Bring your jacket and we will be in the car," she noted. "We are going to get you a very beautiful dress!"

Jei looked at me from behind his blue bangs. "You really want the floor to open and swallow you up huh."

"Oh, you have no idea."

* * *

**Flashforward  
**

**Five Years Later**

_The person she had been waiting had arrived. He slowly opened the door of the restaurant, and let his eyes search the place for her. She rose her hand to show him her location. When he recognized her, he gave a little nod, but not a smile._

_He approached her table, uncomfortably rubbing the back of his head. "Hey, Yuki, how you doing?"_

_"Hey, Gon," she answered softly. "I've been okay. What about you?"_

_Gon didn't reply; just nodded._

_"I heard that you've got your own condo."_

_Gon now smiled coyly. "Yes, actually, I'm no longer living in hotels."_

_"Good. I'm happy for you."_

_An awkward silence followed._

_"So," Yuki said, trying to put on her nicest smiles. "You've decided to live here and quit the traveling around thing?"_

_"Yes," he answered, hands on his legs. "I don't really like traveling by myself."_

_"Nobody likes that," she agreed._

_Another awkward silence followed._

_"Do you want something to drink?" she asked him._

_"No, thanks."_

_Through the limpid windows, they watched a couple of men shoveling the snow off the street. A huge Christmas tree was installed there and decorated early this month and there was a bunch of kids hovering around it. Hopping and singing._

_"Why did you want to see me, Yuki?"_

_She patted her jeans and avoided looking him in the eye. "I wanted to make sure you're okay, Gon. I know how much you two were close."_

_Gon frowned at the last sentence. "He was my best friend. No, he was my brother."_

_"I know," she said. "It was out of my hand, Gon. It was out of our hands."_

_"No, I can't understand. I've spent five years trying to do so, but it just doesn't click. I'm sick of pretending that my life is not incomplete. Something has to be done."  
_

_Yuki rolled her eyes, muttering, "Yeah, because we didn't try _that_ one before."_

_"Are you okay with this? The wait? The expectations? Trying to fool yourself everything is okay but deep down you know you'll never be able to forget what happened? Remembering that you can do nothing to change it? You can't move forward and you can't look back because it's too painful."  
_

_The shakiness in Yuki's hand was uncontrollable, and it was difficult to meet Gon's challenging eyes. "Can we not talk about this now? We've already exhausted this subject. We've done everything we could. Everything. Some things are better left to fate. I just wanted to check on you because despite everything, you are still my friend. And you will always be, even when you're mad at me."  
_

_Gon retreated in clear sympathy and deepened his breath to relax. "What about him? If I am your friend, then what about him?"_

_"I'm not touching that one, Gon. So kindly, don't."_

_"He didn't deserve this and you know it. You perfectly know that, but you prefer to sit here and not—" _

_The shadow of the waiter interrupted them to pour coffee. When he left, Yuki sighed._

_"You can't understand, Gon," Yuki said softly. "You just can't. You and I have different ways of seeing this. I don't support your argument, you don't want to take my suggestion, but we can agree to disagree."_

_"You're a cynic, Yuki. I can't afford to be like you. If I took your suggestion, I'd lose hope."  
_

_"No, you won't," Yuki said, annoyed. "That's not you. You've spent years looking for Ging. You fought for him. Why are you letting your despair get the best of you now? You are not a quitter, Gon."_

_Gon extended his hand to Yuki's chin and forced her to meet his look. "Look at me, Yuki. It was my Ging's choice to do what he's done. No body interfered with his decision. This is a totally different situation we're having here."_

_"No, it's not. Both of them have made their choices." She freed her face from his hand and maintained her coolness. "And you gotta admit that both of them were kinda selfish about it."  
_

_Gon's eyes softened, and he said nothing, turning his head towards the window that had suddenly dotted with sparkles of white. It began snowing. "You're coming tomorrow to the birthday party, right?" he asked._

_"Of course," Yuki replied, pleased with the change of subject. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. As if I could anyway. Leorio wouldn't let any of us miss his son's third birthday, anyway."_

_"He's been counting the days."_

_ "I noticed. Al-stravangaza of the 21st century." _

_Gon couldn't help but smile. "Wow, third birthday," he whispered as he set his folded arms over the table. "It's been five years."_

_They shared a look that spoke a thousand words._

_"Yeah," Yuki agreed, staring through the window again. "Yeah, that's a long time. We're getting old."_

_The trees began to get a crystalline coating as the children outside hopped joyfully, their hair wetted down with enough snow that it hung down lifelessly and dripped cold on their skin. She hated the snow, but this particular scenery delighted her in ways she couldn't fathom or understand. Made her think of the last good deed she'd accomplished in her work. Made her think of Leorio's son, of how there was still some bit of hope for few children to grow up, well, like children should. That they could still grow up in with Christmas, laughter, and options. That maybe, just maybe, some children wouldn't be forced to make choices they didn't intend to make because the circumstances offered no good other options.  
_

_She hated the snow, but this time, it brought a feel of contentment she hadn't felt in years. She'd been working hard, using her work as a cure-all, a much-needed distraction, and her (mostly mental) exhaustion was making her delusional.  
_

_A smile pulled at her lips when she recalled the memory of these familiar words, restoring the memory _him_, of only him, of the one person who had once said them to her in a quite unforgettable situation of her teenage years. Her memories of him were just flashes, images and impressions. Nothing more. And nothing less.  
_

_"I'm really sorry, Gon. For both of us. Merry Christmas."_

_Her memories were the only thing that had left.  
_

* * *

**A/N:** Well…not so much to say now.

**Edited: September 6th. I've edited the flashforward at the bottom. Don't worry, I haven't removed the essential message of the whole thing, just some lines that I found exceptionally crappy, and I added some stuff (maybe some hints too) that should sound less depressing. Yes, the flashforward is hella confusing. Gotta keep the mystery breathing here, and remember, do not jump into horrific conclusions. The story isn't over yet.**


	21. Sweet Surrender

**As much as I would want to, I own nothing more than my original creations. **

* * *

**_21. Sweet Surrender_**

_His vest and the tie laid negligently on the couch as their shadows cast on the wall by the slanting afternoon light. Killua took the last sip from his iced-tea and dialed a number after deciding that procrastinating would do him no good._

_Illumi picked up._

_"You've finally made up your mind," were his first words.  
_

_"Yes," Killua told him._

_"Excellent, because the mission is tonight."_

_A deep exhale. "When?"_

_"After midnight."_

_The guilt slowly subsided and even as the calm spread over him, Killua knew that the regret was going to find its way sooner or later. "Very well. I'll be waiting for you," he said.  
_

_"Are you going to help?" Illumi finally asked – hopefully._

_Gon's shadow appeared from under the bathroom door across the room before it opened to show the black-haired friend dressed up with attire of black pants, cream long sleeve shirt and tie, with matching leather shoes. His childlike facial features and his confident grin genuinely gave Killua the answer to Illumi's request._

_"No, I'm going to stop you," he muttered._

_Illumi's breathing muffled._

_"…I'll be looking forward to that."_

_They hung up.  
_

* * *

If I wanted to make a list of the beliefs I used to hold when I was a kid, it would be slightly long. I used to think the world revolved around me, as most kids did, so I thought everyone was celebrating my birthday on Independence Day. I used to think that the hardest choice in life was choosing a crayon, and I thought it was totally okay to draw on everything.

Staring at the little girl, Elma, I automatically saw the reflection of myself in her. Elma was Akaia's six years old niece. Her dark brown hair was wavy and her bangs fell in front of her forehead. She was sneakily looking at me from behind Akaia's back as Akaia's friend and also maid of honor, Mieko, took the liberty of styling my hair.

"Ouch!" I alienated my head from her hands, desperately wanting to let my hair rest for a while from her extremely hot metal barrel. "It hurts!"

Mieko glared at me through the mirror, clutching tightly at my shoulder and bringing me back to sit straight. "I'm almost done! It's not my fault that your hair doesn't agree with me."

"Be easy on her, Mieko. The girl is new here. She doesn't have to deal with your stroppiness," Akaia said while coloring her toe nails sitting on a huge candid bed that took place in her bedroom in where we were having a 'wedding preparation party', as Mieko liked to call it.

Mieko gave Akaia a hard look and tried to defend herself. "Sweetie, beauty is painful." She pulled another curl to wrap it mercilessly around the iron in the opposite direction and finish by spraying the curl with hairspray again. I squeezed my eyes shut. All I could think about was the possibility of my hair still attaching to my scalp.

"I had to warn you before accepting your offer to be of any help to me," I told her. "My hair is positively rebellious."

Mieko lowered the curling iron back down on to the table. "I'll probably need to add few touches when you put on your dress, but otherwise I'm done," she declared.

Jolts of relief ran through my body as in my mind I celebrated escaping that needless torture.

"Do you like it?" Akaia asked me with a sweet smile. I nodded sheepishly and touched the tresses that had been yanked by the roots. "Mieko, hand me my cellphone." She indicated at the ottoman. "It's in my purse. I need to make sure Leorio's suit has been picked up from the dry-cleaning."

"You're taking care of everything and it's not fair. He's a big boy isn't he?" Mieko complained handing the purse to the future bride.

Akaia smiled and it was quite endearing watching her cheeks getting pink. "It's okay. I don't really mind."

Mieko removed a bobby pin from the hem of her shirt and stuck it in my hair. "Who's responsible for picking the suits?"

"Gon," Akaia answered quickly.

"Uhm," Mieko mused. "He's cute, but not entirely my type."

"Why not?" I wondered as my head was further abused by the pin nearly being driven into my skin. "Gon is a very nice guy. You'll be lucky to date him."

"I know, but you see, he is _too_ nice," Mieko explained plainly. "It gets boring at some point, you know."

Akaia tilted her head to the side and crossed her arms. "Since when _you_ have a type?"

Mieko gave her another hard look. "Since puberty." She brushed my fringe to the side and arranged some tendrils to frame my indignant face. I was certain one of the hair fasteners was going to produce blood. "Anyway, weddings are usually where people get together right? And Leorio has a lot of juicy friends."

"M, I know what you are thinking!" Akaia exclaimed. "You are my maid of honor! I'm not allowing you to go gallivant with men in my wedding!"

"I'm not going to_ gallivant_ with anybody! A girl can have fun right?" Mieko defended hotly as another pin scratched the nape of my neck. Her movements seemed to get more aggressive with that particular conversation.

"Noway," Akaia muttered handing Elma her dress so she would try it on. "Forget about Leorio's friends. Kurapika doesn't actually pay attention to anyone, and Killua is not available." Her eyes were shining when she flashed me a mysterious glance.

Mieko stood dumbfounded for a moment, staring between me and Akaia in wonder. If she was a cartoon character, she would have had a huge exclamation mark sticking above her head.

"Oh my gosh!" she suddenly cried in realization. Then she abruptly whirled around my chair, kneeling down in front of me and forcing me to face her. I blinked frightfully. "You are Killua's girlfriend?"

_Shit._

I shrugged in panic at her loud outburst and produced a small pout. "No, I'm not. We are close friends."

"Friends with benefits," Akaia teased from where she stood, causing my face to grow hot. Damn, I was not ready for this.

"But _how_?" Mieko demanded curiously. "How is it possible? I've known this guy for a few months now and we merely exchanged two or three words! He seems to have issues with human contact. I'm really shocked he could develop a relationship with someone!"

"We are not in a relationship," I chided.

"Maybe we do not have to label everything. It sets up too much pressure on things," Akaia stated trying to be diplomatic. Her features held the potential for beauty when she looked kindly at me. "But when you smile, he smiles. I don't know if you've noticed that."

A place deep inside bounced at the thought, but I didn't let it show.

"He _smiles_?" Mieko cried in disbelief. "I've never seen him smiling!"

"Mieko, he's not a robot," Akaia reminded, rolling her eyes.

"He smiled at me once!" Elma asserted loudly, enjoying getting all our attentions for once. "He gave me chocolates and smiled at me."

Amazed of the words I was hearing, I warmed up slowly at the image of Killua treating little kids with affection.

I whirled my chair to face the mirror again. "Are we done with my hair, Mieko?"

"Fine, I'll not talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable," Mieko assured and I sighed in relief. "But one more question!"

_Oh, no._

"Yes?" I broached cautiously.

"Do you love him?"

I swear my heart skipped a beat at that as I stared dumbly at her. "Love? Love him as in…in love with him? You're asking me if I'm in love with him?"

Mieko nodded serenely and waited intently for my answer which even Akaia seemed interested to know. I couldn't tell if her face was glowing because she was a bride or because of the subject we were discussing.

"You are_ truly_ asking me that?" I sputtered. My heartbeats felt like they were jumping all over the place.

Mieko glimpsed at Akaia and smirked. "She is stalling to find a good lie."

"No!" I turned more scarlet now. "It's just…I don't know how to define anything anymore."

"Hm, alright. What do you feel when you look at him?"

I recounted his memory softly. "I just feel…odd. And secure."

Mieko smiled. "That's a confirmation. Now go put on your dress. We don't want to be late."

I got up to stand behind the Japanese print screen in Akaia's bedroom, holding the dress in my hand. After untying my pants and taking off my shirt, I carefully stepped into the strapless dress and felt for the zipper below my back to finish changing. My fingers made contact with it and I managed to pull it up to the middle of my back where it ended.

"Oh common Yuki!" Akaia urged. "We want to see!"

I came out from behind the partition and blinked at the sounds of loud gasps. "Do I look hideous?" I asked in a half-panicked voice.

"Wow!" Mieko praised. "I think she's going to steal your thunder, Akaia."

Akaia almost beamed and turned to me briefly, giving a playful wink. "I think _someone_ is going to be beside himself."

"Duh!" Mieko added.

I had a little bit of blush brushing on my cheeks but I still managed to roll my eyes. "You certainly don't know him. I'm sure he would cough a bit and say that I look decent or something else very guarded and that would be it."

Akaia laughed without humor and took me by the hand. "You must see yourself in the mirror, then you'll know that's completely wrong." The mirror was framed in ornate gold and stood upon two clawed feet. It stood by the window which overlooked the blooming front garden. Akaia moved me in front of it and tenderly patted my back. "Absolutely stunning."

Unsettled, I stared back at myself. The lace dress was a captivating, slinky ballerina length sheath in the lightest pink hue, complimented by a gorgeous silk black bow around the fitted waist. It was certainly quite different than anything I had ever worn before. Mieko's skills were grandly apparent in the way she arranged the curls in my natural straight hair and allowed them to fall down my neck from their usual ponytail binding. As for my makeup, only a thin line of cherry lipstick was applied, and my eyes were fringed in dark mascara.

I felt completely unlike myself, much more like the dolls I was still keeping in my bedchamber. And far too grown up.

"He'll be unable to recognize me," I muttered most likely to myself. I pushed my hands down over the fabric of the gown for the millionth time, praying for the material to magically extend down my knees an extra inch or so. Mieko caught this from the corner of her eye.

"Hey! Geez, Yuki! Relax please! You'd definitely knock him sideways!" She punched her fist dramatically against her knee as she said the last three words. I couldn't help but laugh at her and I felt myself relax the tiniest bit.

"Are you ready for tonight?" Akaia asked.

I gave her a sheepish glance. "I think so."

Something in my knotted gut told me that tonight was going to be a night to remember. And I wasn't mistaken.

* * *

Following the well-known traditions—which I was not very familiar with—I was informed by Mieko that the girl was supposed to wait for her date to pick her up, so I waited for him in the auction building near Kurapika's office. Clutching at my coat nervously, I used my other hand to pull at the hem of my dress several more times.

The elevator's ding interrupted my thoughts process.

As soon as his feet wearily stepped outside, Killua's form sank visibly when his eyes caught me standing there. And as he met my awed gaze, he broke into a defeating sigh of unfathomable surprise. "You look," he began lightly. I waited impatiently. "I‒I mean," he stammered. My body did some coy fluttery eyelash thing completely without my mind's permission. "You look…." He sighed again.

"I hope the ending of these sentences is good," I mocked with a small, nervous smile.

His cheeks gained a pink glow, an indicative that the answer was out of his comfort zone. "Uh…yeah."

"Do I look pretty?"

"No," he replied, taking more steps in my direction. "You look beautiful."

Much for my frustration, the blush eventually took over. It was like a full-body blush. The worst kind, really. "You look nice too," I praised. "Your shirt has buttons."

Killua looked down at himself and touched a button with his fingers. "Yeah, well it pretty much just hangs open without them, which is kind of awkward in public settings."

"Right… I like them."

"You like my buttons?"

"Yep." Date Yuki was an idiot. I laughed at myself and said, "They're exceptional buttons."

"Good. I imagine button quality is very important in button-down shirts."

"Well, sure."

Presumably this was Date Killua, who seemed to be exactly like normal Killua but with a nicer shirt and bonus awkward conversation.

"And you are wearing a tie which is not wrinkled," I added, smoothing his tie with my fingertips for just a second.

He smiled, shuffling a bit and running his hand through his hair. "I finally figured that tying it is not as hard as it looks like."

I narrowed my eyes. "You tied it yourself?"

He sensed the hint of accusation, and his eyes widened comically. "Of course."

"Seriously?"

After a long stare, he surrendered with an eye-roll. "I should say Gon helped me a little bit."

"A_ little bit_?"

"Dammit alright, Gon tied it for me," he admitted.

"I thought so."

We silently walked the rest of the way to the elevator, and shared a slightly strained smile once we both waited the doors to open. Date Killua was strange and law-abiding. I wasn't sure I liked this whole alternate business. Date Yuki was giving me a stomach ache.

"This isn't too awkward, is it?" I asked with a sigh.

He considered this. "It does seem kind of…off."

"Maybe we should start listing weird things again. I think we do pretty well with that."

"I think the fact that we're both here with the understanding that it is a date makes it a date," he said thoughtfully.

"Well, we could do exactly the same thing we always do, but if we thought of it as a date then it would be different from whatever the hell is actually was." I thought Date Yuki had screwed me over. "Does that make sense?"

"I understand what you mean. It doesn't have to be different," he decided.

"Exactly. I mean, what were you expecting when you asked me out? What kind of change are you looking for?"

"Umm…" His face scrunched, which was weird and adorable. "Basically I want what we had before with the addition of being a bit more closer to you than anyone else. Also, some kind of promise that you won't kiss other people would be great."

"Oh." That sounded so simple. "So basically it's friendship, but with benefits?

"Sort of. And prearranged outings that apparently necessitate the wearing of my one button-down shirt, which I hate, and a hell of a lot of unsolicited social advice. From _Gon_."

I laughed, "It looks nice on you."

"The whole shirt or just the buttons?" he asked with a teasing smile. Just like that I felt _fantastic_. I thought Date Killua was a hypnotist or something.

I laughed again, both from embarrassment and happiness. I felt silly and jittery and sort of like I was about to explode into a big puff of glitter, which only made me feel sillier. I wonder if this was what it was like to be Gon.

Killua held the coat from my hand and pulled it around my shoulders. He tightened the lapels together as I looked up at him with a nervous smile. "Let's go, or I'll feel more inclined to ruin your lipstick," he said. My mind went deliriously blank. My blood thrummed with anticipation as he leaned closer and closer. I could almost taste the chocolate on his breath when he suddenly stopped. "But I'm not going to," he noted with a smirk.

I let out a sigh I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Freaking tease," I grumbled good-naturedly, my heart rapidly thumping against my ribcage as Killua claimed his tiny victory.

"What is taking you _so long_?" Jei whined from somewhere behind us. We turned around at the same time to see him standing by his room door. He was dressed up in a tuxedo. His normally tousled hair sat neatly on his head. Weird, but cute. Both of us stared widely at him for a good minute, mainly making fools of ourselves. "What?" Jei said, irked.

"You really look handsome," I conceded at last.

He whirled quickly and gave us his back. I was positively sure that he was blushing out there. "Yeah, I look marvelous, can we go now?"

Killua and I smiled. "Sure."

We shared another look, but it wasn't strained this time.

* * *

After exchanging their very traditional vows, Leorio and Akaia accepted our congratulations with sincere smiles. I never noticed that Akaia was crying until it was my time to hug her.

I entered the wedding lounge and my emotionless, stoic face didn't hesitate to form a scowl at the soul-scratching sight. The wedding hall was decorated with fake purple and white carnations and huge glossy ribbons.

The ceremony was lovely up until the wedding singer started his song. For some reason, Akaia's mother cried during half of it and it was unbearable to listen or watch.

The rest of the night was a blur as I sit calmly in my chair, watching everyone from a good distance. I found myself laughing at Mieko's determined attempts to drag Kurapika to the dance floor, but he gave up eventually and compelled to her request.

Jei was the picture of severe annoyance. He was sitting next to me with his iPod, and I could clearly hear the song he was listening to despite the horrendous noise around me. I nudged him a bunch of times to let me entertain him but I ended up receiving a breathtaking glare. And by breathtaking, I don't mean the pleasant type.

Gon was the only one who kindly offered to take me to the dance floor for a short dance. Actually…Gon was a lousy dancer. I probably shouldn't be saying this but there was noway to put this in the right way. I was _stunned_ though by his one single move. At least the boy was trying, and that was enough.

Making myself comfortable, I was all alone at the table, enjoying my strawberry milkshake and staring at Akaia's huge wedding dress, wondering how in the world was she able to move in it. The lights faded gradually and the music from the speakers was tempered to something a little slower. It was not too sentimental though, which I was glad for as I discovered something:

Killua was on his way to my chair.

He held his hand out to me. His dark eyes glinting with a new spark of an uncanny mirth tinged with a little of the old mischief. "Dance with me." His voice was low and confident.

Wordlessly and completely speechless, I numbly nodded my head and placed my hand in his. I felt his fingers stroking mine. Slowly, my fingers began to feel like mine again. Flesh. Bone. Muscle. Air. Warmth. Sound. It was all coming back.

"I didn't know you could dance though," I commented.

He led me to the dance floor and smiled a little. "Guess there are a lot of things you don't know about me."

"That's very true," I answered. He slipped his other arm snugly around my waist. I stiffened when he drew me close and chuckled quietly.

"By the way, I don't bite."

I looked down to hide my embarrassment and was quite thankful he couldn't see the blush that consumed my face. "Yeah, I know," I mumbled. Then I seemed to be able to relax enough to place a hand on his shoulder.

Killua could dance.

I mean, I don't know if he could bust a move or anything, but in the general sense of swaying our bodies in rhythm, moving his feet just when he needed to, and tucking my body close enough to be intimate but not indecent, Killua could dance. I couldn't help but lean into him, resting my nose on his shoulder and watching the room over it.

I noticed several people staring at us—or more precisely, him and then me, and I saw that question of _are they together?_ This time, it was answered with a definitive _yes, they are_. That immediate understanding freaked me out a little, but it also made me feel undeniably special, too.

Pulling me out of my thoughts, Killua said, "Look at you, you little peacock."

I pulled my face away slightly to look at him. "What?"

"You're being a peacock right now."

"Make sense, please?" I requested.

"Male peacocks raise their tails to show them off when they want to attract a mate."

"I'm showing off to attract a mate?" I asked, confused. My uncontrollable thoughts went _oh, but you already have a mate!_ which was rather ridiculous, since the word mate made me think of zoo animals.

"The metaphor isn't perfect," Killua huffed. "I just meant, you're showing _me_ off. That we're here together. We are a bird, and I am your tail-feathers."

"They're called _plumes_," I corrected.

"Fine. You're the pea, then."

I laughed mostly because I didn't know what else to do.

We danced in silence for a few moments, and I thought that I could get used to this feeling, of being so close to someone, to _him_, particularly. We'd touched, we'd hugged—hell, he'd had to carry me to my room on occasions—but for the first time, as I tightened my arms around him, for the first time, I held Killua.

It felt lovely.

"You appeared incredibly surprised when you saw me approaching you and bringing you here," Killua said into my ear.

"I _was_," I interjected. "It's because I know how much you hate to be the center of attention."

"Precisely, but I couldn't exactly help it. As your date, I have to act upon it. I have no choice."

My returning look was dark. "That is definitely one of the least flattering things I have ever heard."

"Very well. How about this?" He brought his face close to mine and dared me to break away from his gaze. "I find it pleasant to be around you tonight."

I sucked in a sharp intake of breath, and due to my distraction, I stepped firmly on his foot with my heel. His smile vanished into a grimace of pain. "Damn," Killua groaned. "If that is how you respond to a compliment, remind me the next time to keep it to myself."

Wishing to be anywhere else, I embarrassingly tried to continue dancing without being anymore dangerous. "Sorry."

"It's a comfort that you didn't do it on purpose. You can say I'm rather accustomed to be victimized by women." He was leading this better than I expected him to, allowing my earlier awkwardness to melt away.

"Why am I not surprised to hear that?" I teased softly, receiving a childlike grin by him.

"That's a pretty mean observation." I laughed merrily and rested my forehead against his shoulder once again. "It's not funny," he said.

"You're right, it's not," I agreed with a fond smirk. "You probably hate to admit this, but you certainly do not leave the best first impressions."

"So I understand that you truly hated me when we first met?" There was not any sense of disappointment in his tone.

"No," I replied. "Hate is a very strong word. Loathe and detest, maybe."

"Detest," Killua repeated gently. He stared at me for a long moment. I noticed that his eyes suddenly showed an emotion that I had never got the chance to see before now. They were hurtful and unrecognizable. "Will you be honest with me about something?"

"Don't I always?"

"Just tell me you'll make that promise," he insisted with a sour edge to his serious tone.

At that moment, I knew that I was going to regret what I said next. "Alright."

He looked away long enough to shake off the alien feeling that had almost shown his uncontrollable mask. "Whatever happens, I need you to promise me that you'll always remember the boy whom you played hide and seek with."

I momentarily stared back at him, and my expression changed. It softened and saddened by the subtle edge in his voice. For a moment, the noise all around me faded into the background, and a cold stone settled down in my gut.

"Why are you saying this?"

Killua sighed deeply, his breath blowing cool on my cheek, causing me to shiver involuntarily. "The reason doesn't matter now. Will you do that regardless?"

"Yes, I promise."

The music stopped and I withdrew my hand from his. A little shocked I was when he made no move to leave the dance floor.

"Would it be too much if I asked for another dance?"

It was honestly hard to refuse such an offer. "Of course not," I murmured with a slight smile, returning my hand on his shoulder. He quickly captured my other hand and placed it against his heart. The pain in his eyes was back.

We glided smoothly across the floor. We weren't speaking at all this time. My entire thoughts were shaken when I met his deep gaze. We were intensely staring at each other, as if memorizing every trace of the other was a necessity.

"You are so quiet."

"I didn't know silence bothers you."

"It doesn't." I pursed my lips, hesitating. "It's just…this behavior of yours stirs a lot of questions."

His grip tightened around my hand as he buried his face in my hair, basically in an attempt to hide his expression. "Sometimes talking isn't exactly…efficient. I'm trying to make the best of the night." He pulled back and I finally saw his smile, though it was guarded. "You know, seizing the moment and everything."

I was unable to smile back. "There is going to be more nights to come." I rested my forehead against his, hoping he would catch the implication behind the words. "Why are you trying to make it sound like something's going to fall apart?"

Killua frowned. "No. Do not take it this way." I could tell he was trying to erase the obvious concern surrounding my voice. "I'm merely saying that, life is kinda short?"

I was a bit relieved. "If that's the case, then why don't you let me know more about you?"

"Perhaps because I do not wish to put myself in a vulnerable position."

I raised my eyebrows. "Vulnerable?"

"I don't think you really want to hear about my background."

"But I do. Because I want to see how you really are inside. There's more to you than just the image you project. I can sense it. You've got something sweet hidden under there." I patted his chest where my hand was resting.

His returning look was private. "You might not like what you find."

I thought about it for a moment. "Try me."

I could tell he didn't like where this was going, but I wasn't at all happy with him trying to keep himself in the dark all the time. "I am not going to lose my determination to make this night a memorable one by talking about that. Besides, I'm not very good at trying new things. Often enough they end up backfiring, and with my past, I'm not so sure that it's a good idea."

I looked at him as he spoke. His words were followed by a genuine smile that wiped every thought from my mind.

Frustrated, I shook my head. "I don't want you to change. I just want your trust and honesty." The insecurity was slowly creeping up behind him and filling him with doubt.

"But where should I start?"

"Wherever you want to," I said softly.

"Alright then." He bit his lip. His voice was a low rumble, almost a purr. It was laced with desperation and anxiety. "Ever since I was born, I was raised to kill. I have met many people. Met them and killed them. You can say I never known a thing you know as parents. I was taught how to strangle, butcher, slice, cut, choke and remove. I was taught in the ways to kill. That was my only talent. And my only skill. To kill."

I didn't allow the flinch to dominate, instead maintained an indifferent expression.

He continued.

"I started killing at the age of five. Since then I had seen nothing but death, that and how to end every excuse for a life." His dark eyes never leaving mine. "I wasn't meant to be innocent."

Our movements were now still when the song stopped, and he waited for the fear to consume my face.

"I don't care," I eventually said.

"You don't care that I was a killer?"

I lowered my gaze with a smile. "If you had spoken those words in the present tense, it would have mattered to me. But you hadn't." I warmly looked up at him. "Which means you are not that same person anymore."

His hand which was on the small of my back brought me closer and I was frozen by the feeling of his lips pressing against my forehead. He was being as careful as ever, and my heart began to overreact like always. I couldn't help but wonder whether it was his intention or my imagination that made it seem to last a beat or two longer.

My head was spinning when he pulled himself up into a more formal posture, bringing his arms back to his sides so that we were no longer touching. I felt no sense of relief at this end. Almost as if something horrible was coming tomorrow.

"Just remember that promise," he whispered.

I embraced the promise's memory in my head despite the anxiety which seemed to ratchet up the intensity of the pounding in my head. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but most of those question would have to wait.

We smiled at each other as a loud noise came through the intercom. "Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for the groom and the bride to have their first dance as husband and wife," the wedding singer announced. In the silence left by the ending of the broadcast, a soft applause followed from the grinning guests. Leorio and Akaia stepped hand in hand on their spot light, and their requested song started to waft in clearly through the speakers.

"Maybe we should return to our table," I muttered.

"Okay."

From the good distance, I was able to see Gon's broad smile which unveiled itself when he saw us approaching. Mieko was watching the dancers dreamily, her chin resting on her hand. But when she saw us, her brown us twinkled with excitement and she speedily rose from her seat.

"Oh, you two, I was just introducing Gon and Kurapika to Akaia's brother." She gestured at a tall man wearing a gray clean suit with his long hair neatly tied back. His attractive facial features held a smoldering look as he stepped up to our spot accompanied by even a taller man who could be mistaken for his bodyguard.

"This is Kin," Mieko spoke with a goodhearted smile, indicating at the shorter man. "He is Akaia's older brother." We followed her gaze to the other one. "And this is her cousin, Ryoma. Both of them are professional hunters."

When Killua didn't move any muscle, I extended my hand for a handshake and grimaced a little when Kin's hand squeezed mine with an unnecessary force. "Nice to meet you. And congratulations," I said.

"I told Kin that you guys are hunters as well," Mieko chirped watching the scene with a big grin.

"The pleasure is mine," Kin retorted, parting his hand from mine and offering it to Killua, who didn't appear like he was about to move his hands from his pockets. Kin waited with patience. Killua settled for a simple nod.

Kin dropped his hand and managed to pull an awkward yet offended smile.

I grasped Killua's hand in an attempt to get him into sitting down and avoiding any further interaction with the huge men. Nevertheless, the next minute changed everything, and my good intentions were in vain when Kin turned to his fellow and whispered audibly in his ear. "That boy. What a jackass, huh?"

_Well, shit._

I froze and sensed a little—just a little tingle of electricity in my hand.

"What did you just call me?" Killua shot back fiercely and I gasped. His glare only seemed to intensify each second.

This was not going to be good.

* * *

**A/N:** Not going to be good indeed. The poor man.

Did you notice the Prince of Tennis names that I shamelessly stole?

So… The awesome news is that I'm finally on my way to get this arc over with. I'm not allowing this story to take more than forty-five chapters, even if I have to expand the length of each chapter, I'm going to be content with the number forty-five.

Review?

**Maddy hatter:** Your pen-name reminds me of Alice in Wonderland. Shopping for dresses is a nightmare, my friend. Thank you for the ranting. It's quite welcomed!


	22. Unmasked: Part I

**Hunter X Hunter doesn't belong me to me.  
**

* * *

**_22. Unmasked: Part I_**

I wrapped the coat closer to my body when a chilly waft of the early winter air bellowed in the street. Killua and I decided to accompany Jei to the auction building after having enough with his complaints about how 'crowded' the wedding was. As our walk took a silent turn, Jei's entire behavior had changed. He straightened his back instantly and stared forward rigidly.

He couldn't be blamed really; we were certainly not the perfect company.

I glanced over his head at Killua, wondering once more what exactly had Jei endured in this place. He pursed his lips together and sighed.

It was apparent even he didn't know.

"For five minutes," Jei suddenly said. "I honestly hope you two will stop bickering for just _five_ minutes."

"Who said we were bickering?" I asked him in feign surprise.

"It doesn't need to be out loud," Jei muttered crossly, rolling his eyes. "The stony silence is enough."

"I assure you Yuki and I are once more the best of friends," Killua asserted calmly.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," I disagreed, scoffing, my eyes focused on the road. "Now that you've successfully alienated yourself from half of Akaia's family, and you almost made a scene in the middle of the ceremony. Not to mention that you were extremely rude with everyone, even after I asked you to specifically make an effort not to do so."

Killua was pissed. "Well then, I ask you, how must one respond to being called a 'jackass' within the first five minutes of introduction?"

"You don't want to forget that you actually _were _a jackass during the introduction. Besides, there is such a phrase as 'turning the other cheek.'"

"Why, so the other man could insult me as well? No, thank you." Killua crossed his arms, his expression petulant. "It's not like you did anything to defend me at all."

"There was no need to defend you; you're a big boy who's capable of defending himself. Usually without a physical fight."

"I never made actual contact with the one called _Kin_."

"No, but you did call him with the F-Word and shook your fist in his face. Actually, I admire your bravery doing that in front of someone as threateningly built as his cousin. You're rather lucky that it ended there."

"Are you saying that I could not last long in a such a physical fight?" I could hear humor in his voice.

"Against these two? Don't make me laugh, Killua."

He glared at me over Jei's head, severely annoyed. "Hey, hey, I don't just sit pretty trying to be on my best behavior all the time. Just so you know, I never wanted to get my hands dirty out there. I _am_ prepared to fight, if needed."

I smiled to myself. "Oh yes, I know you don't just sit pretty trying to be on your best behavior; you get to dress up pretty as well."

His eyes were alive with fire. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't silence you this second…."

"Enough!" Jei groaned, covering his ears. "Just both of you, go back to being silent. Geez!"

I smiled winningly back at him. "It's not like Jei doesn't know, Kils."

"Hell yes, I know too damn much," Jei growled. "But I still don't know how you two are friends."

The friendliness wiped clean from Killua's face when he asked me, "Are you trying to pick a fight?"

"No," I answered. "I'm not in the mood to even look at you. It was quite stupid what you did back there, and you could have been mistaken for a ten-year-old boy."

Killua stopped walking. "Then why did you agree to escort us in this walk?" he shot back.

"Because apparently, I'm quite stupid myself."

"For Christ's sake, I can't believe _I_ agreed on doing this." Jei grunted. "The wedding seems so much better right now."

"You want me to leave?" Killua's voice was getting louder at each remark.

"It's your choice."

"Fine!"

"_Fine_."

He spun on his heel and took off before a single word could escape through Jei's lips. He left us there, staring at his treating silhouette as it walked away into the darkness.

Jei turned to me, dumbfounded.

"What?" I said.

"Why did you do that? He is like a wild, restrained lion! If you let him go, he'll never, ever come back again!"

"Are you seriously saying that it's my fault?"

"For the record, it strikes _me_ as odd that the man is still alive! If I was in Killua's shoes, I would have done the exact same thing, if not more! Don't you know him at all?"

I hated to accept that he did have a point. "What do you suggest?"

"Apologize, before it's too late."

"I can't. I'm not going to wander around York Shin's streets looking for him."

"There is such a thing called technology, you know. You should be thankful for that."

"Are you saying I should call him? No, that would be like admitting defeat!"

Jei looked blankly at me. "Text him, then."

"That's the same thing!"

"Yuki, leave me alone. I'm not a guidance counselor."

"But… what if he ignored my text?"

"Trust me, he wouldn't. The guy might be intolerable, but he has a heart."

* * *

Thirty minutes later, I was standing at Jei's room door, knocking sorely like a pushy salesman. "Jei?" I yelled through the wooden barrier.

"What do you want?" Jei matched my tone, his grumpiness obvious.

It was when I mumbled the dumbest question. "Are you asleep?"

"Yes."

His answer was not any better.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course not!" I could almost see his frown.

"Okay!" I quickly opened the door, only yo see his half-naked form sitting at the edge of the bed, his eyes scolding under his seriously tousled hair.

"I hope you burn in hell, Yuki Kudo."

"I'm sorry, but it's kinda important." I lifted up the bag in my hand, giving him a lost look. "I bought candles. I know what you're going to say. It's weird, and probably old-fashioned, but I couldn't help it. The saleswoman convinced me, telling me that guys dig this kind of stuff. She also wanted to sell me…few more things. Repulsive, disgusting, adult-like things, you know what I mean?"

Jei shrugged visibly, reaching for a shirt to wear. He moved to peer inside the bag, then he looked at me in confusion. "You bought candles? I'm sorry, but are you living in the 19th century?"

"I know, that sounds bad. But look at them. They are white, silky and they are supposed to be romantic, right?"

He just paused—stopped talking while gazing at me like I was speaking in a bad Indian accent.

My entire form sank. "Please tell me this is not very outrageous."

"I can do that, but I promised my mother never to lie."

I punched his chest.

"_Hey_!" he exclaimed, rubbing the spot where my blow pounded. "I'm not a hunter, so be easy on me!"

"Hear me up for a moment will you? There is nobody here. I'd probably talk about this with a girl-friend if I had one here, but I don't. So will you be my girl-friend for the next few seconds?"

"I'm… I'm not sure about this."

"Please?"

"Alright, be quick."

I took out my cellphone, and started to type furiously. "I'm going to ask him to come, but how should I do that? I don't want to sound like I'm pleading and I definitely don't want to be rude." I handed him the phone. "Does this look fine?"

He scanned the screen, and read the words of the text out loud. "'Meet me in my room.'" He looked at me with a cocked eyebrow. "What's with the formality?"

"Should I add something?" I snatched the phone back and pressed few more buttons before I gave it to him again. "What about this?"

He checked it with absolute boredom. "You added three dots at the end."

"So?"

"They indicate a dirty meaning. An implication, maybe."

I sighed loudly. "What should I do?"

"I dunno! Do I look like an expert in this sort of crap? Whatever, the few seconds are over! Now get out of here!"

"Come on! I'd never abandon you if you needed me!"

He pinched the place between his eyes. "Just put one dot at the end, it'll do the work."

I grinned widely. "Thank you!" I kissed his cheek and stormed out of the room. "You are the best girl-friend in the world!" I called out as I ran in the hallway. My own room was only few meters away from his.

He leaned at the edge of the door, watching me leaving. "Be nice with him," he ordered.

"Don't worry about that."

He smiled sweetly before getting himself back inside. I entered the room, and started with the preparations.

* * *

The ticks of the clock echoed in the room, and every minute seemed to take an hour to pass. I waited expectantly, repeatedly looking for the door over and over again, expecting it to be opened in any second.

I sat comfortably at the chair as the first fifteen minutes passed. But still, he didn't show.

During the next fifteen minutes, I walked around the room, hoping that the time would magically fasten this way.

But still, there was no sign of him. He didn't even manage a simple reply.

I waited, and waited, and waited.

Until the anger got in control._  
_

_No fair!_

I swear that was the first thought in my head when I could finally start thinking again. Because come on, it really _was_ unfair! What, did he think that he was punishing me with that or something? I could totally be considerate and everything, and I could understand that perhaps it was a pride issue to him, but this…where was _this_ coming from? It was not like I stole his chocolates!

It was like the world was throwing pranks at me. I wanted him to come, but I was sure that I'd soon enough kill him right then. There was something about boys that I'll never—repeat never—understand. They like playing mind-games. Mind-games satisfy their male bravado. Killua was merely one of those boys. And I already knew he was able to reach the highest level of being a jerk, so why was I pissed off and blaming myself? I should have predicted this.

I glimpsed at the candles again, and the beautiful shade of them against the wall irritated me even more than I had been.

It was definitely a male-ego thing. And believe me, males can get pretty excited when the subject involves their precious ego. But, seriously? Did he think that he was taming me with that move? Like he believed I was going to turn into begging in order to make him show up? God, he'd be dreaming.

Ugh. I hated it when I didn't get things. I felt like I was going to blow. So I did, by stamping my feet on the floor.

A _brilliant_ thought shot through my head. Why did I get myself into this in the first place? This whole romance thing. As if I needed more trauma in my life by trapping myself in this love bubble, convincing myself that it would always remain pink and pretty.

For fifteen long years, my heart had been brutally shut away from the world. I wanted to experience the warmth of love, and allow the exhilarating rush of romance to tingle through every nerve in my body. And hypocritically, at the same time, love was the one thing I kept pushing away and running from.

I summoned a brick wall that would forever barricade me from the idea of trusting anyone beside myself. Because I knew. I knew that it couldn't end up well. I was not a princess in some absurd fairytale and therefore I was not guaranteed a sugar-coated happily-ever-after. So that was how I protected myself, suppressing my hopes in order to secure minimal disappointment.

I never figured out how people do this stuff—relationships, I mean. How they were able to so easily reopen their hearts to the world. Wound after wound, they still went back and gave the world another chance.

Maybe it was like learning to walk when you were a toddler, or learning to ride your bike for the first time. You fail, you lose your grace, you fall down, and you bruise. But you get back up and keep trying. As time progresses, those bruises will fade, overlapped by your gratifying achievements.

Maybe romance was just the same.

This is absurd. I was not willing to blame it on my luck, because my luck had endured enough curses throughout the years.

I found it a miracle that I still had the energy to wash my face and change into a pair of black pants, my famous black military boots and a navy long-sleeved blouse. I released my hair from the torture of the bobby-pins, and rushed over to blow off the candles.

I snuffed out one of the candle with two fingers. _The show is over_, I told myself.

And of course, I hated myself, for having a shallow-thinking mind and for being so sickly optimistic. I mean, _candles_? Who does that these days? The idea was not only ancient, but it also reminded of those black-and-white movies and everything I had scoffed and laughed at while my cousin and the other girls would swoon over the hero on the screen. And now I was the one conforming to the overused love story.

The rapping of knuckles against my door shook me from my hate-fest. "Who is it?"

Killua slid the door open, and I abruptly tensed up, the angry birds resumed flying around my head. A little trace of amusement was evident in his expression as he eyed the room around me. I felt utterly annoyed when his first reaction was a quiet chuckle. "Candles?" he asked with mild surprise.

"You are actually very courageous coming here!"

His returning stare was a completely calmed one.

"Are you unhappy about something?" he questioned innocently.

I started to rant.

"You!" I shouted loudly, pointing a menacing finger at him, "Where have you been for Heaven's sake? You know that I've been waiting for you! Jei assured me that you were going to come but I didn't know you'd be _this_ late! You were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago but you_ intended_ to make me wait! And I did this idiotic, embarrassing, _humiliating_, corny thing, as a way to make things right between us. I mean, I'm cliché. I _am_ the definition of cliché. I'm actually a walking bag of clichés. And you're unbelievable! You can't just get weird on me all of a sudden because of that stupid thing!"

"Yuki—"

"I'm not speaking to you again! I swear to god, I'm not. Because you made me wait! And now you're making me feel like a lame ass loser! I could be sleeping instead of—" I irritably started pacing back and forth like a nervous wreck. "_Dammit_! Let me tell you something, I did _not_ come to this place for some stupid winter romance with some headstrong bad boy who says cruel things and seems to bring troubles with him to everywhere he goes. After I got all whole healed, you didn't show up! Now it's all ruined because it took you so long to come! And I couldn't find a chocolate cake in the store and and—"

He smiled at that and took further steps towards me. "Yuki—"

"You know, if you're going to get all weird on me, on a _Friday_ of all days, the least you can do is give me a _good_ reason. I'm still mad at you and I don't know if I trust you. I wanna trust you, but I don't know if I do. I don't know anything anymore. I was gonna try. I was gonna try and trust you. Because I believe we are not ordinary and you can make me happy. Now look at what you made me do! Damn you! I swear to god I'm going to—"

He silenced me with a kiss, this time one that I could return. I was thankful he was holding me upright, or else I would have been swaying dizzily from the disorienting effect of the surprise. I was fairly certain that I was supposed to ask a question like _what the hell is going on?_ Or _have you been drinking that poisonous water too?_ Or maybe even _why are you holding me like this? It's really kind of weird and you're squishing my arms._ Instead it came out… Dammit, that was a whimper.

Of course it was possible that he was just trying to shut me up because I was scaring him with my intense crazy. Maybe I should act like a complete nut job more often, then.

I sort of stood completely still, seemingly afraid to move. Then very carefully, my hands came up to encircle his neck as my lips returned the caresses, hesitant but with strength. He was abandoning his reservations, tearing down the walls of doubt that hemmed and held us back.

This kiss was much better than the first one. Our lips slowly moved against each other's, and it was still surreal, but less awkward than before. But it ended far too soon and I tilted forward as he tried to pull away, brushing his lips against mine a final time. We slowly broke apart, though he kept his grip on me.

"I–I'm still not speaking to you," I murmured dully. Shaking my head, I continued my ranting, "You know, only a Friday could be this messed up. Not that _this_ is messed up, but…well I mean it is messed up, but in a good way now…overall. Not so much this morning, or the beginning of lunch, but after-argument-panic-attack is going pretty well…overall. Well the kiss part was good, the ranting probably doesn't go in the plus column. Feel free to shut me up any time. Seriously, because it doesn't seem like I'm going to be doing it on my own anytime soon—"

He leaned forward and closed the small distance between us. And then he kissed me again. I think I completely forgot about my urge to hurt him, without really knowing how it actually happened. This was an entirely new kind of relationship for me, and it was terrifying and exciting, all at once, and just…I didn't even know. I think I would have to make up a word to properly express exactly what it was, but he was kissing me, and his hand was on my jaw, and I was pulling him closer, and I think my brain was dying so there was really no way I could come up with something right now. It'd probably just be some kind of inarticulate squealing noise anyway.

My scare-him-with-my-madness-to-get-him-to-kiss-me-ag ain idea seemed to be working out very well. My success made me feel giddy, and powerful, and a little bit smug, to the point where I thought I had inbred magical powers, or something. I'm pretty sure this counted as using my abilities for good. Killua seemed to agree, if his enthusiasm was any indication.

It occurred to me that at this very moment, I was pretty much trapped. Given my usually neurotic state when it came to this kind of intimacy, and if I was being honest, things in general, I would expect this realization to be…well, neurosis inducing, but somehow it was not. He was kind of trapping me and I would prefer to be able to move a little bit, but it was _nice_, really nice. Granted, this might be the magic power trip talking, but this was decidedly un-terrifying and kind of hot, both literally and metaphorically. Killua was a furnace, a slightly unusual, boy-smelling furnace.

We parted half in a daze, the strands of his hair dripping softly onto my forehead. "You're so weird," he said quietly, as if he had been reading my thoughts all this time.

"Okay."

_Okay?_ What the hell was that? Only minutes ago I was spewing out every crazy thing my brain came up with, and now all I could come up with was _okay_?

"I'm sorry _I_ got weird," he said seriously, "you know, earlier tonight. But that was just in reaction to your weirdness," he added defensively. "Your weirdness didn't exactly help with mine."

"Okay," I responded dumbly.

"Can you say something other than _okay_? Because I was just getting optimistic that you're not going to get weird again. I mean, I like that, kinda, but now you're just getting silent, awkward-weird and that's not okay, seriously."

I moved my hands down to rest on his shoulders. "I'm sorry I got weird, too."

"Well that's much better than okay."

"But the weirdness is not my fault," I remarked.

And then I got that smile of his, the one where his eyes sort of widened in amusement. I think I started liking him because of that smile. "I'm not saying that. Although you are the source, so it's not all me."

"What? How am I _the source_?"

"It's just… you are," he said, his voice rising as he started to get defensive again. But still in that cute way.

"That's not an explanation. That's barely even a sentence—"

"We can keep doing this all night long, you know," he reminded.

I grinned back at him. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry."

"So anyway." He slipped his hand in the inside of his jacket, pulling out a single red rose with a red ribbon wrapped around its stem. It was one of those roses which only looks good when it's alone by itself. The kind that people choose for their tattoo to appear significant and have a lifelong meaning to them, whether it is about another person or something else altogether. I took it from his hand, pressing it to my face and inhaled deeply. "Happy birthday," he said.

"You actually remembered!"

It was a mere shock to me because I myself forgot about the entire thing. It had been exactly two weeks since I informed him about my upcoming birthday in that restaurant. Two weeks had passed like a flash of lightning. To me, anyway.

It was Killua's turn to grin. "That's why I was late, actually. I was looking for an available flower-shop, and the one I found was distant. Four blocks away from here."

"Four blocks away? That's where I grew up!" I said in surprise.

"Really?"

"Really! How does the florist look like? An old woman? Smells like chicken with no respect for personal privacy? Oh! Does she look like a potato?"

"Wow you know her? I'm not sure about the potato thing, but she does look like a scub. And she exhausted me with all these questions about the occasion of me buying the rose. She even begged me to describe you. It was creepy."

"That's her! That's my grandmother!"

"Oh, she is? Well then I take back what I said about her being a scub. She is a fine lady."

I laughed merrily. "As if I never heard _that_ one before. It's alright, she _is_ kind of bitter."

He smiled and randomly detached the ribbon from its place, took my hand and tied it around my wrist.

"I've got another surprise for you."

"You do?"

"Yes. Follow me."

We turned off the candles. I placed the rose gently on the bed, and left the room.

I was literally hopping next to him as the two of us walked our way to the elevator. It surprised me that I was not feeling nervous anymore, although I knew how peculiar his thoughts might get. However, the anticipation to know about his mysterious plans tingled through me in such an interesting way.

I stood silently beside him in the elevator, my shoulder touching his as we both waited, my grin getting broader in each minute. He pulled a hand nonchalantly out of his pocket and requested the highest floor—or more accurately, the roof of the building. I imitated his posture, placing my hands deeply in my pockets. He ignored my mocking quick glances, though he seemed to be clearly fighting to hide his smile by biting his bottom lip.

"Soo," I said in a sing-song way. "Are you going to kidnap me or something?"

His smile eventually broke free, but it wasn't nearly as distracted as it had been during the dance. His relaxation was apparent.

"I might," he answered. "You are all mine right now. By the end of the night, I am unsure of what could happen. All that I know is that I will not set you free before midnight. So, yes. I might be kidnapping you."

Amused by his heartiness, I narrowed my eyes teasingly. "Did you just refer me as…Cinderella?"

"I think the guy is allowed to give his girlfriend all sorts of references."

If my grin could get any wider, it would have wrapped around the back of my head. "Did you just say that I'm your girlfriend?"

"You're asking way too many questions."

"You're not properly answering any of them," I interjected merrily.

"I beg to differ. I _did_ respond to the first two."

"By 'I might' and 'I think'? That's surely not satisfying."

He shrugged his shoulders in indifference. "Well…I did not bring you here to satisfy you, you know."

"Oh…right. Because you are my kidnapper."

"I am your kidnapper," he agreed.

The door of the elevator opened after the well-known ding. I looked at where we were and was flabbergasted. I walked lazily to the edge of the building and looked down at the main street. "This is nice," I commented.

"Yeah it is, but don't like it too much. The surprise doesn't take place here."

Now I was confused. "Not here? Then where?"

"At the roof of your building."

I shoved my hands deeper in my pockets when an unfriendly whiff washed over. "Then why did you bring us here? Must you always be so stubbornly difficult?"

He pointed at one of the lines of the many buildings that surrounded us. "I thought we could use a more entertaining way to go there. Are you up to it?"

"…"

"Yuki?"

"…"

"Yuki? You're still breathing?" He waved a hand wearily in front of my eyes.

A hysterical laugh bubbled from my chest. "Oh it's a joke!" I managed to say between the giggles. "I didn't get at fist, but now I do! It's funny, yeah. You are a hilarious guy."

I immediately stopped the crazy reaction when I noticed his calm expression. My eyes started to gradually widen as I waited for a confirmation to what I just said. The look on my face turned desperate. "So now I'm freaking out because I realize you are not kidding," I whined.

He chuckled quietly. "Hmm… Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"Shoot. Noway, forget it. I'm not going to jump on the roofs!"

"Hold on a second." He appeared oblivious. I started to feel a little intimidated when he got closer. "Who said anything about you jumping on the roofs?"

My shoulders sagged in despair. "Okay, can you make your sentences clearer, please?"

"Yes, of course." He was now directly in front of me, but he continued to walk in short steps around my frozen form until he decided to stand behind me. I flinched, not at all thinking about whirling around to face him. I was already skeptical of his madness.

"I was thinking..." His fingertips brushed my hair from my neck onto my back. I closed my eyelids and held back a shrug. "_I_ would give you the ride."

My eyes popped open. I quickly turned around towards him, flashing him a horror look. "A-ar-are you insane?" He laughed at my outburst. I had stopped my habit of stuttering a long while back, probably since kindergarten. The only time I stuttered was when I was panicking.

I should have known that he was not the type of guys who would ask or even wait for a permission. He bent down and swept his arm behind my knees, knocking them out from under me. His other arm caught my back as he carried me up. I almost smiled. "Oh my God, you were serious," I muttered.

"Yep," he replied, walking in a steady pace as if he was not holding a mass of ninety pounds between his arms. He easily jumped on the edge of the building, and we were welcomed by the strong breeze from underneath. The rush inside of me built up. The wind made it hard for me to fully open my eyes, but I could still see the crooked smirk on his face.

"I suggest you hold on tight."

I tightened my arms and intertwined my fingers behind his neck, but never closed my eyes. It was ridiculous to miss such a thing. It would be like bungee jumping without the bounce. Something with no sense at all.

His whole body glowed with a faint purple light. It brightened till it faded progressively to surround his legs. He concentrated, breathing evenly. In fact, the energy of the aura was overwhelming to the point of nausea for normal people.

"What does your Nen have to do with this?" I inquired curiously.

"You'll see." A smile, then he paid attention to my nervousness. He pulled me tighter against his chest. "I'll keep you safe," he promised.

"It's too dark for me. Can you see?"

"I see just fine." He nodded his chin toward the darkness ahead. "You'll be able to see more as we get to higher ground."

I countered, "That'll take forever."

He chuckled. "You think?"

"You're carrying me!"

"You weigh next to nothing," he said, squeezing my thighs. "So you want to go faster?"

At his words, my heart thudded loudly, furiously beating again. "You're going to run?"

I could smell his excitement as he said, "Yes. Hold on tight."

I renewed my grip. "Okay, I'm ready."

"You trust me?"

I took a breath. "I'm trying my best."

If I had blinked, I would have missed it when he landed on the next building. He darted upon the buildings like a breath of air, moving quickly and transparently. His pace accelerated, and all the figures around me blurred enough to appear invisible. I reminded myself to breathe and not allow the adrenaline to take over as the chilly air smacked my cheeks like violent gunshots.

It was like a rollercoaster.

It seemed—No, I was certain his feet were not touching anything.

"Are you all right?" he called in a loud enough voice that I'd hear over the wind.

I laughed a brilliant, bright laugh, one of pure, adrenaline-tinged bliss. "Can you go faster?"

He did, and I almost squealed as he doubled speed, bounding across sprawling creeks and fallen trees.

The speed was incredible. It was like being on top of a living jet liner swooping along at ground level. Trees, buildings, cars, people, they all looked like strange blurs of color, all blended together in a psychotic rush of insanity. In a word, it was fun. And within no time at all, we were already at the familiar roof.

Carefully, he bent slightly to let me slide off his arms.

"Oh!" I exclaimed as my knees buckled. He caught me around my waist before I fell.

"Careful," he hissed, and I looked up at him sheepishly.

He gently let go of me, though his hands bounded around my waist without touching me, ready to steady me in case I lost balance again.

"That was…intense." My voice was high with elation. "I'm trying to understand why do you even walk if you are able to _that_."

"Because at that speed, I can't really see things around me very clearly, and I might run into things," he explained. He finally dropped his arms by his side. "You don't want this to happen right?"

"Maybe I do. I don't think I'd mind seeing you running into a pillar sometime."

"No, you're a liar. You'd probably lose your mind like how you did in the car incident."

I shrugged. "Don't bring that up. Just…don't. The memory still gives me the creeps."

He smiled at my inflection. "Fine."

"Why are we here? I think it's time to let me know."

"Because it's a special place for you, and it's required in order for the night to be special as well." He took off his jacket and threw it on the floor. I eyed him in confusion. "Now let's get into business."

"Business." I made a face. "That's so formal."

"I'm pretty straightforward, that's all," he remarked and started undoing the tie around his neck.

"What are you doing?" I wondered, slightly in panic. No, that was a lie. I was _really_ panicked. "Er…I think we should…discuss this? Like have a talk about it?"

"Have a talk?" He slid his imperfectly tied up tie off his neck and laid it down on the jacket. "Who's being formal now? Yuki, not everything should be discussed." He unbuttoned the collar of his shirt along with the button underneath it.

"But, I _should_ have a word in this decision, right?" I deflected. "I mean, what if I'm not ready?"

He narrowed his eyes. "What the hell are you talking about?"

I started to panic even further, growing even more alarmed. "Why are you taking your clothes off?"

"Because it's hot in here. The running and the jumping were exhilarating." I sighed, an uncontrollable smile painted itself on my face. He took my hand and walked me to the place where we sat the last time we were here. Suddenly, a bunch of flares exploded in the night sky in all variety of colors. "This is what I want to show you, not what you imagine."

The fireworks were spectacular, covering the stars of the season and not pausing a second. I looked up in contemplation, dazed by their fierce light. "I heard it's common and traditional to set off fireworks when the first two weeks of the auction are over," Killua said loudly, trying to surpass the horrendous sound. "And your building is the perfect view."

"Yah I know, but I totally forgot about it. Sam and I used to wait for them every year. It doesn't get old. Watching them is _always_ a delight." I twisted to see him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He paused, smiling as he played with the ribbon around my wrist. "Yuki, about what you feared earlier…"

Well, damn. I thought he let that pass. I reddened and looked down awkwardly. "Oh please, let's not talk about my paranoia on such a wonderful night."

He smiled fondly and tilted my chin up to turn my face toward his. "Yuki, listen to me. I did not bring you here to…seduce you, or whatever was the imagination your mind had created. I just wanted to have more time with you, away from everyone's disturbance. I'm not exactly…that kind of guys. I will not rush you to anything of that nature. Worry not."

It was a great deal of comfort knowing that he was just as apprehensive as me, but I had doubts about hurting his feelings by accusing him of such ulterior motives. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

He chuckled breathlessly and wrapped his arms around me. "It's adorable when you try to figure me out," he noted. I fought the color down in my cheeks. "Don't worry, that didn't offend me. I don't blame you. I can be misleading sometimes."

"And apparently, untruthful. Come on, _sometimes_? At least be honest with yourself. You are misleading _all_ the time."

"No I'm not. Just because I don't explain myself doesn't mean I'm always misleading." He leaned against the edge, never moving his eyes from mine.

"Yeah but you _are_ private. And secretive," I retorted.

"Now we are talking about that? Alright, maybe I am. Do I have to be constantly sharing the truth about my thoughts and feelings in order not to be secretive?"

I leaned next to him, feeling the wind on my back. "No, but you find no problem in pulling the truth from me. Isn't that hypocritical?"

He laughed. It bellowed in the wind, yet trilled like chimes. "I don't pull it from you. You offer it with a plentiful heart and a loving smile. But since when has hypocrisy ever been a bad thing anyway?"

"Hypocrisy reveals a lack of sincerity. It is dishonesty at the highest level," I stated, knowing that I was probably going too far with this. However, his reaction showed no discomfort.

He smiled warmly. His resonant voice replied, "I think it's a breath of honesty. People either recognize their hypocrisy or they don't. Whichever it is, it reveals a lot about that person."

"I think that they are aiming for better but have yet to make it or that they are purely insincere."

He looked at me, exasperated. "Hypocrisy is a consequence of a world where beliefs evolve faster than people. Sometimes we can spend our entire lives playing catch-up. Why judge someone for it when the majority of us are guilty of the same crime?"

I scolded. "I feel like I'm not going to win this argument."

"Damn straight."

It was not the idea about hypocrisy that annoyed me, and this time it was not about my desire to prove a point or have the last word. It was the desire of knowing him. Hypocrisy didn't bother me. He did.

He was always closed; bolted up tight in every possible way. He was a coded, padlocked tome. Thick steel and iron prevented any penetration.

I had always been an open book for him. The thin pages were filled to the brim with curved script. Sometimes his own pages seemed to fade in on themselves. Even though they were locked up tight, every page was fragile, as if infected.

Sometimes it felt as though I had cracked the code. Sometimes it felt as though he was opening up; letting a little of his pages show. But then, like a strike of lighting, he coiled in on himself. His volume slammed shut. Dust clouded around him.

I loved him. Yet didn't know him. He revealed everything, yet nothing at the same time. I knew that forever I would fight to know him, and forever he would resist. But at the end, although our pages read differently, the feelings sung in tune.

I watched the fireworks once more. It was like seeing dozens of giant colored fire-flies glowing through a haze of thick cotton high above. And if I wanted to get more freakish, it was like there were hundreds of the likes of Tinker Bell, dancing up in the sky. I smiled to myself at the thought.

"Do you believe in fairytales?" I asked him.

Caught off-guard, he stumbled a reply. "I'm… I'm not sure."

My eyes flickered back to the sky. The fireworks died off, replacing the peaceful silence of the night. "I used to believe," I revealed, receiving a kind smile from him. "True love's kiss, the glass slipper, the righteous turn of luck, the happily ever after. Those pretty stuff."

"And now you don't?"

I briefly recounted why I had stopped doing so. "No, basically because I recently started to hate the heroines. They whine a lot about not being able to find the right guy, as if it's the most painful thing in the world. They are annoying, and they cry a lot."

He chuckled lowly. "Fairytales are not supposed to have devastating problems. That's why they are called fairytales. Besides, there's nothing wrong with crying."

"I don't cry," I admitted, a frustrating edge in my voice. It didn't escape his notice.

"There's nothing wrong with that either." His voice was soothing.

"It's more like I _can't_ cry. I didn't cry when I knew about my parents' death. I didn't mourn them. I only mourned Sam. Ever since that day, I just stopped…caring. I had too much craziness for one lifetime, and I think I am unable to feel anymore."

He reached out and touched my hand, his fingers twined with reassurance into mine. It was like a security blanket.

"Do you feel that?"

"Yes," I answered hesitantly.

"How does it make you feel?"

I thought about it, wanting to muster the perfect description. "Like there is some kind of fluttering in my stomach."

He smirked, pleased by that. "Then why did you say that bullshit?"

I laughed and rested my hands on his chest. "You like doing that don't you? Proving me wrong all the time?"

"No actually, I don't. Like I have nothing better to do," he teased.

"But isn't it fun at least? To be always right?"

He leaned forward, nuzzling my collarbone. "So you do admit that I'm always right." His eyes took on a mischievous glint as he skimmed across my neck, pressing his lips there with deliberate slowness. "This is surely a day for the record books. You are actually conceding for my benefit. Shame there are no witnesses."

My blood was racing, sensing, and I wanted to slow it. "I like it better this way."

"Sure you do." His kisses became petal-light and steady along my neck. The intimate action sending an unbearably addictive heat coursing through my veins. I shivered visibly, and I could feel him grin against my rocketing pulse.

Alarm shot through me once more and I squirmed slightly, trying to flee or at least get onto safer ground. He seemed to realize what I was doing and he gave a soft sigh.

His head backtracked for few inches until our noses were brushing. Heat and electricity flowed from the closeness. It was unnerving. Jerking forward slightly, his eyes held mine with an imploring look for only a second more before they flickered down to my lips, and I understood his unasked question. I exhaled silently, overwhelmed by the craftiness of his ice-green gaze. He leaned forward slowly, very slowly as if he was giving me a glimpse of a chance to escape this, or perhaps to make sure his motive and mine were in harmony. As a response, I snaked a hand around his neck, my eyelids drooping down. He sighed in contentment, his arms tightening around my waist as he captured my lips with his.

Somewhere in the endless spinning of eternity that one, tiny, fraction of a second where our lips met was entirely lost.

The tingling heat tore through my body and I found myself kissing him back unconsciously, responding more enthusiastically than I should have. Without even thinking, it wasn't long before I tangled my fingers in his hair, and I surrendered to the rush of desperation. Everywhere he touched and nipped, and everywhere our skin met and limbs rubbed, seemed to be on fire. Burning, throbbing, perilous fire_._

The emotions were building again, edging me on to never waste a moment. As if I really _was_ Cinderella. As if my fantasy would disappear along with my dress by midnight. A hauntingly familiar combination of pleasure and fear seized me. It pushed me forward, and it increased my desperation.

I was gone, lost, floating away into nothingness like I was in a dream, but this time it was a good feeling – like soaring, like being totally _free_. He pressed himself against my body and held me tight, refusing to hold anything back, and refusing to give a damn about the time. His other hand pushed my hair from my face, and I could feel the impression of his fingers everywhere that they touch, and in that moment – however long it lasted, seconds, minutes, days – while he was holding me and I was breathing into him, I realized that I'd regained a feeling that I'd lost a long time ago.

Happiness.

I wasn't prepared for the intensity of the kiss, and it left me with no rational thought in my head. I'm not sure how long we stayed like that. All I can recall is that I was the one who was left gasping for air when we finally pulled apart.

Killua cleared his throat and smiled a little. "I… I don't think we should continue. I'm not sure how far this may go," he said in a hoarse voice. I didn't say anything, instead leaning my head against his chest, the throb of my pulse eventually quieted.

I suddenly had the urge to laugh. "That was pretty… _chivalrous_ of you."

"I can be chivalrous," he teased back.

I smiled. "You make everything better. Brighter. Happier. You make everything more '-er' in general."

Right then, like someone abruptly pausing a movie, everything changed when his phone buzzed loudly, blaring through the silence. Killua checked the message, and his features twisted to what appeared to be irritation.

"Let's go," he said urgently before giving me a quick, one last kiss.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing, don't worry, it's just getting late."

Without a word, I nodded.

The night was more than memorable. I needed someone to remind me not jump too high into anything. To remind me that the crash landing would be painful. Because that night was not memorable. It was life-changing.

* * *

**A/N: **So here it is. I know, I know. This chapter was a little cheesy and corny at some point…but we love cheese and corn, right? First arc ends next chapter. Thank you for reading and have a good day!


	23. Unmasked: Part II

******I would like to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter. You guys rule.  
**

******Disclaimer: I do not own Hunter X Hunter.**

* * *

**_23. Unmasked: Part II_**

_"To err is human; to forgive is divine." _

* * *

He caught my tremulous hand. I tilted my head up to meet his obscure gaze, his eyes turning a scorching emerald.

"This is the end," he murmured.

"…the end?"

From the crinkle of his face, despite his usual deadpanned expression, a small smile formed on his lips.

"Of the night."

Dazed slightly by his words, I finally regained composure. "Of the night," I echoed.

* * *

_In her eyes, he was the knight._

_The orphan had grown up without warmth. Her heart a blizzard, and her world black and white. She had bestowed the crown upon his head in exchange for his might and royalty. He was taught to be stoic; taught to be ruthless; wanted to be the brick wall that would protect the majestic maiden. His Princess._

_It was the princess whom he wanted to shield. But it was also the princess who had shown him the light. He was merely a boy of armor, a heart as cold as ice, had melted before the hearth. The hearth constructed of every figment of benevolence and kindness exuding from the maiden. The maiden of which he was to protect; the maiden was not far beyond his reach, at that time._

_For the first time, the boy had shown heart underneath the façade of his armor. For the first time, he had developed a feeling that was neither control, nor sorrow, nor anger. It was a glowering ember that formed inside his soul. He could not piece together the puzzle of mixed feelings. His eyes had been opened to a world of color. _

_The brick wall had fallen, and a new one constructed in its place. The ameliorated barricade now protected the maiden with reason and motivation._

_But what would happen to the wall when penetrated? It was not an enemy of combat, but an aristocrat atop his white steed. His gleaming crown polished in glory. His beaming charms elevated the princess's heart. The wall failed to act as a barrier this time._

_Always by the maiden's side, but he knew he was never qualified for the reserved seat within her heart. She was enamored with the prince. The prince, who opened her doors, widened her horizon and allowed for the flower of love to fully blossom. The princess found herself achieving new heights on the swings of bliss in what seemed like an everlasting spring. But her barricade, the prince, had been locked away in a lonesome, perpetual winter._

_Everything good must come with something bad; every immaculate sheet was bound to receive a stain. Thunderstorms arose, the earth began to rumble, and havoc was amongst the kingdom. A malicious shadow had slithered its way into the princess's nest. _

_Her barricade acted without hesitation, as if he had lived for this moment. He obviated any possible damage to the princess, he deflected the malevolence and eventually, he had fallen._ _He had been unmasked._

_The wall was demolished, but he had felt no repent. He came to realize the feelings that he had harbored all along. Love. Before his eyes, the princess drowned in tears, stripped of her grace; her gentle smile, wiped off her face. The knight found his identity. And so did she. He was not the metallic knight, but the fragile ghost beneath him. He was not the impenetrable shield, but the vulnerable soul within. He was not the wall erected to defend the princess, but the man who wanted her with all his heart. Who would, without hesitation, risk his life for her safety._

_She found a teardrop rolling along her cheek. The princess had cried for the first time, and it could also be the last time. Her heart felt the warmest it had ever felt. A burning. The ember within, had burst into a powerful flame._

_Soon enough, the flame faded. Drifted into emptiness._

_Her heartbeat almost stopped._

* * *

In front of the auction building, our forms remained quiet. The voices of the crickets fluttering in the winds had become the only audible sound in this deathly silence. There was a longing sad emotion into his stare. He rose his hand to slowly caress my cheek, and I held myself back from leaning into his touch.

Yet as we both locked eyes, I sensed that he was determined to keep his emotions hidden. Our breath made small clouds of steam but neither of us willing to leave the safety and solitude of the night. Because eventually the first morning rays would poke through the sky. There was a fog in the air that hovered just above the pavement, making the entire world seem ethereal and dreamlike. I wanted this moment to be a dream, one I would never have to wake up from, but those golden morning rays always brought more than just light to my world. They brought reality as well.

He whispered, "You should go inside."

"What about you? Aren't you coming?" I tried to keep the concern from my voice when I said that.

He looked at me calmly. "There's something I need to take care of."

"What?"

He smiled, but didn't answer my question. "Go on…it will be okay."

I settled for a small nod. "Alright. Good night then."

Without a warning, he pulled me into the final embrace. My body cradled in his arms as he held me tight to his chest. Unconsciously, I synced my breathing with the lazy beating of his heart ringing through my ears. Every three beats I would breath in the scent of him hesitantly, savoring the moment, and breath it out a beat later only to repeat the action again, a heartbeat or two from then. During some point in those lonely minutes, my arms had come to rest around his waist. And that was where they had wished to stay.

"I love you." My words were muffled by his shirt, barely audible.

We separated.

He smiled darkly into my eyes. "I thought you'd never say that."

I smiled.

He bid his farewell with a kiss on my hand.

And he left.

* * *

_Babel._

The inside of the building was a scene of noise and confusion. Nothing was staying still. Everywhere I looked, there was a flashy movement.

_I hate this job_, I reminded myself.

"Please. Please, I need to pass," I said with a strained voice, pushing through the crowd of stunned onlookers. I froze when I saw Jei sitting painfully on one of the huge chairs, his right arm wrapped in a blood-coated bandage. Aside from the nasty gash above his eye, his color was off. He looked gray, and much older than his fourteen years.

I sauntered over his side. "What the hell happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine! God, I'm fine!" he growled.

I don't know how long I stayed standing there. _Too_ long, for sure, too cowardly and crushed and confused—the three C's no one should ever be if they want to get somewhere.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Kurapika and the others having a private conversation. I whirled around to approach them, so fast that I almost pushed down one of the guests. "What happened?" I asked Kurapika, way more sharply than I needed to. "What's wrong with Jei?"

"He was attacked," Senritsu answered, her freckles were standing out; she was so pale.

"By a Zaoldyeck," Kurapika added ruefully. "I'm sorry, Yuki. I should have believed in you. I shouldn't have trusted the Zaoldyecks."

I was too mad to even consider hearing what he was saying. "When did that happen? Did anyone see them?" They shook their heads in negation. I skipped over to kneel beside Jei. "Tell me everything, Jei."

He blinked at me groggily. I was literally going crazy. I have to admit the sight of the poor boy with his eyes half-closed and his blue hair sort of flopped over in a sad way over his messed-up eye, made me feel a little woozy. In fact, I might have swayed a little on my feet, and probably would have fallen over if Gon hadn't grabbed my hand.

"I heard something," Jei started to narrate. Kurapika and Senritsu instantly joined us around the chair, listening intently to what Jei was going to say, which made him shrug at the intimidated attention. "I heard something so I thought you guys were back, and then I saw a vague shape, one that shifted and displaced the darkness of the hallway." His voice was getting weaker during the end, so we waited for him to take a good pause.

"I ventured closer to see. I saw a man. A tall man with long hair and sharp pitchy eyes."

"You were able to read his mind?" I cut in. Jei nodded slightly.

Something was sucking the oxygen out of the room, in almost the same way as helium would leak out of a balloon.

"It only helped me to know that he is a Zaoldyeck. And that he came to kill that man whose name starts with the letter A."

"Aizawa," Kurapika said in a gentle voice.

My hand clenched. It was not the sight of Jei's blood seeping through the bandage on his arm that had made me sick. It was the realization that we had failed. We had failed miserably. It was only dumb blind luck that that man hadn't succeeded in killing Jei. It was only because of that man's mercy that Jei was still alive. It was no thanks to us, the people who were responsible. No thanks to us whatsoever.

Because if we had stayed in the building, we might have prevented this. None of this would have happened at all.

That was when I got angry. I mean _really_ angry.

"How did he attack you?" I found myself asking, trying to stabilize the emotions of my voice.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Jei answered, "He threw a needle at my arm. An acute needle. And then my arm got alive and—"

"Your arm got _what_?" I inquired loudly. The noise in the room was getting unbearable. With a deep, irritated sigh, I turned to look at the guests.

"Excuse me?" I called them softly. No response. No movement. "Excuse me!" I said once again, louder this time. But it didn't gain me a simple glance. "_Yo_!" I shouted, my voice echoing within the walls. Which so happened to get their full attention this time.

They stared at me, surprised.

"Alright, I understand your worry and everything, but one of our colleagues here is injured and he happens to be the only person who knows where the killer is, and we are trying to track down this said killer in order to avoid any future incidents of this nature, _and_ to protect you from him, so will you all please shut the fuck up?"

Their positively shocked eyes continued to take me in, but at least I got what I wanted.

When I got back, I was faced by Kurapika's disapproval stare.

"You shouldn't talk to our guests like that, Yuki."

"Not now, Kurapika." I shook my head. Even in this kind of situations, he had to be so painfully attentive.

"It's Illumi," Gon decided, exchanging a quick glimpse with Kurapika, whose eyes were suddenly huge in his face as he came face to face with the realization Gon's words had brought.

My head was spinning. "You know him?"

"We met him in the Hunter Exam," Gon explained.

As my mind began to adjust everything, the back of my head throbbed almost as much as my eyes did, like a bastard, as I managed to lug myself into a kneeling position beside Jei's chair. I felt like I was trapped in the throes of a major hangover, or like I'd just rolled headfirst off of a merry-go-round.

Not only did those guys meet a Zaoldyeck, they also knew his damn name. Once I re-accessorized and had shaken the wobbles out of my legs, I got up and flashed Jei a stern look. "What else could you read in that asshole's mind?"

Jei flinched at my tone, but his attitude wasn't affected. "Something about going to a park. He was planning to take Aizawa to that park, and kill him there." He brushed his bangs out of his forehead. I shrugged. The man had successfully screwed up his face.

"Which park? The city has thousands of parks!" I tried not to sound too excited, but I couldn't help it.

"I don't know," Jei said. I guess thinking must have been painful for him since I saw him give himself a couple pills of painkillers. "I really don't know. I could only stare for few seconds into his eyes before he stroke me."

_Damn it all._ This place seemed to have a great deal of bad luck.

I didn't dare make any further movements until the room quit spinning and settled back into focus. I headed towards the building entrance, as mindless as a fresh lobotomy patient. Kurapika caught my wrist, his chain felt cold against my skin.

"Where do you think you're going?" His knuckles quivered with a rage steadily boiling over. "It's too late, Yuki. Illumi had possibly killed Aizawa. What's done is done."

"Are you sure about this?" I asked him, my face blank.

His grip relaxed the way his eyes expanded in shock. "What?"

"Are you sure Aizawa is dead?"

"No, but—"

"Then it's not too late, is it?"

He dropped his hand. "Yuki…you are not going to search every park for them."

"Of course not. I'm not stupid."

I took out my phone and dialed Marcus' number.

_"Yuki?"_

"Marcus, they did it. Aizawa is kidnapped."

_"Shit, when did that happen?"_

"Few minutes ago. Listen to me, Marcus."

He did just as I asked him to.

"The kidnapper took Aizawa to one of the city parks. I need you to gather all the units you possibly have, divide up the tasks, and make sure everyone is prepared for anything. The target is a Zaoldyeck," I commanded, aware of everyone's frightful stares, especially Gon's and Senritsu's.

_"Will do. Don't you worry about a thing."_

"Good." I quickly closed the phone lid, and stumbled for the exit. But this time, Jei's fingers clutched my shirt.

"Don't go, Yuki. Stay here," he pleaded in a voice completely devoid of the dry humor that had been always in it before.

I swallowed. Okay, I wasn't feeling quite as confident as I was acting. Factually, I was practically quaking in my boots. But what else could I do? I couldn't ignore my intense desire to witness Marcus' men handcuffing a Zaoldyeck. And it would have been really helpful if everybody could have just supported me in this.

"I can't," I told him, woodenly. "I should do this, Jei."

"No, you shouldn't!"

I stared at Gon. He made no attempt to argue with Jei for my benefit. He just stood there next to Kurapika, their expressions almost desperate.

"Jei, I have to—"

"I'm begging you, Yuki," he interrupted. I gasped at that, wondering what was with his persistence all of a sudden. The tighter he squeezed my shirt, the more I tensed under his touch. I didn't like being handled all roughly and whatnot. Not that that stopped me.

"Let them take care of this. You stay here," he continued with the same pleading tone, and I was hurt, in spite of myself. "Please." He sounded drunk, but not pleasantly so, thanks to the painkillers he'd just undigested. I was certain they were the one talking this time. There was noway Jei would say these words to me, not like this anyway.

I grasped his hand in mine, giving it a small squeeze. "I'm sorry," I whispered before gently resting his hand in his lap.

"You are a filthy liar!" he screamed, his eyes hurtful.

I blinked at him, unsure if I should feel shocked or upset.

"You said you wouldn't abandon me if I needed you!"

"I know," I said, clearing my throat uncomfortably. "But you don't need me now, Jei."

His eyelids drifted closed, and for one panicky minute, I thought he'd gone to sleep. Then he opened his eyes and looked at me kind of sadly. "Nothing I'm going to say is going to make you change your mind about this?"

I don't know why I gave him a shaky smile. He was a funny kid, that Jei. He wasn't like anyone I've ever met, and it wasn't because of his blue hair, either.

"No," I replied. I turned to my black-haired friend. "Take care of him, Gon."

Kurapika, who'd silently watched the entire conversation, stopped being the boss to me, and started being a concerned friend.

"Don't worry," I told him. "Everything will be alright."

I no longer needed a support.

I fled.

How did I know, you'd ask, that everything will be alright? The truth was, I didn't. I mean, as a matter of fact, I was certain of the exact opposite. Meanwhile, I kept running, running towards what I knew would be my first injury.

* * *

_"You ready?" _

_The eldest son of the Zaoldyecks called his brother, smoothly but with impatience. Punctuality. It was a necessity in the Zaoldyecks' world, as much as their reputation. Missions should never be unappreciated. Punctuality, was all that mattered. _

_"Are you ready?" _

_Illumi watched his younger brother, crouching on the floor of the isolation chamber. His white bangs shrouded his face like a funeral veil._

_"Kil?" He had to make sure he had been heard, not ignored. "Killua?" _

_At the sound of his full name, Killua looked up from under his eyelashes, at the man standing in front of him._

_"What's wrong?" Illumi asked._

_Nothing is right, Killua wanted to say. _

_The ruins of the outside world was in his dreams now. He could no longer sleep. He could only drift into nightmares of what he should have done. Nights dominated his everyday dwellings, his everyday anxieties._

_His hell had dug itself into a hole that wasn't deep enough to freeze all the feelings. His past had clouded the future as it had always had. Remembering. And thinking about it, again and again. Scared of dreaming, he could no longer sleep. Though tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of being quiet. _

_Silence was exhausting._

_They made him. Taught him. _

_They gave him love he never craved. They entrusted him with a name he never owned. They introduced him to the darkness, where he was supposed to find himself. But in a sense, he found nothing. _

_His bloodshed was lost, as deep snow turns red. Salt spread acid into even healed wounds. _

_Half-healed and sombre, he rose from his shallow grave. Buried alive by their greed, he was. _

_He could never ask why. He had died almost before he had lived. And he knew he would die with so many things still left unsaid. _

_He had been divided into pieces. Thrown in places of desire and fear. Silence created an unending madness. A distant insanity. They made him lose the world. _

_It was a burning madness; their obsession with labels. _

_They didn't allow him to choose. Didn't allow him to see, and be seen. Locked him in a living nightmare, where no one could reach him, or speak to him. Where no one could hurt him._

_It was a form of escapism. A form of silent death._

_And after all, he just wanted to sleep._

_He looked up.  
_

_His brother, his role model, was standing in front of him._

_With all his pride. And all his prejudice._

_"What's wrong?" he asked again. _

_Silence was better than being unheard._

_"…nothing."  
_

* * *

**Killua's PoV**

Clouds rolled forth from the horizon, nearly reaching the trees above me as a storm threatened to fall over the city. The smoky fingers of the daylight did not seem to approach anytime soon.

Once again, I viewed Illumi's text from earlier, searching for any signs of hidden implications or the strange Zaoldyeck codes ready to be broken. But I found nothing. The text was clear.

_Find me in the central park._

Find me. Huh.

Even during this screwed-up time, and no matter how simple our meeting was, Illumi's manners would always be instructional. He always liked playing the role of the master.

My hands laid lazily in my pockets as I stepped on the wet grass of the park, knowing that I'd probably broke a rule by doing so, but I did not exactly have the time to care. The gardener was not there, anyway.

I looked around me. At the empty swings. At the lonely benches. At the quiet tree leaves. Nothing told me that there had been a person in the place, so I figured that perhaps Illumi intended to go so far with this. He intended to force me into using all my possible methods in order to find him.

How fun.

A splendid bastard he was. He thought that I would take that as a challenge. Which in all honesty, he was right.

Biting my lip in absolute boredom, I landed onto an uneven dirt and it pierced up through the soles of my shoes. "Shit," I groaned. I let the distraction affect me negatively.

No, wait.

I knelt down to get a closer look at the footprints that were apparent on the mud. _Definitely human_, I thought.

But this was a public park. I couldn't rely on this, and Illumi was not that stupid to leave such a clear evidence. Illumi was a professional. I needed to reach his level in order to find him. No, I needed to surpass him. Finding him was not the only thing I wanted. I wanted to be able to stop him from whatever he was aiming for, at the very least.

Years had passed since our last encounter. I had changed, and so had he, I suppose. I had got stronger. Physically and emotionally. Though the smug confidence I had was not good enough for me. I was not so sure about my ability to kill him, yet.

However, it was not my intention to kill him tonight. And it didn't mean that I was even thinking about killing him later. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and I knew that if he was looking for a death match, I would gladly accept.

Perhaps that was the reason behind the way I was acting around Yuki. A small part in me knew that tonight was holding a devastating ending, because I had learned to always expect the unexpected when it came to my older brother. I was unsure if the ending would be mine. All that I knew was that there was going to be one.

I concentrated on my surroundings. I allowed my instincts to awaken.

A gray cloud rose above my head—scents came with it—the typical wildlife smells: sparrows, local cats, rats, spit from a small boy who drank cider, as well as the faded smell of human blood.

I tasted the dampness of the air. Soon it would rain, and by soon, I meant in a matter of seconds. Sure enough, droplets of water began to fall from the heavens through the park canopy.

The blood smell was getting more defined as I ran to stand under the nearest tree, unwilling to deal with the disturbance of the rain. I wiped my face and neck with my sleeve.

I could still smell her in the fabric.

_Focus_, I instructed my mind.

Suddenly, just from behind me, I heard the rustling of the leaves, and I had the feeling that I was being watched – followed – hunted. My claws extended in anticipation, my wet hair whipped out a trail of rainwater as I spun around, controlling my breathing.

The swishing sound recommenced, this time it came from somewhere I could easily locate.

With a small smirk, I let the tension evaporate from my body. "I know you are there," I said dimly. "Show yourself, or I'll have to come after you." Although no one else was around the place, it seemed appropriate to maintain a low voice in the darkness.

I had to wait only a split of second before Illumi deftly landed on the ground next to me, and dropped the body of the man he had been carrying above his shoulders.

"If only he could shut up for one second," Illumi said monotonously. "Then you wouldn't have found me."

Aizawa was grunting, in what I suppose was heavy pain.

"What did you do to him?"

"I didn't kill him, if that's what you mean. Not yet. He's deeply wounded though." He looked at my hand for a moment, and then into my eyes. "Should I expect_ you_ to kill me, however?"

I refused to withdraw my claws. "The thought did not occur to me," I told him.

He tilted his head. "It didn't?"

I gritted my teeth. _What's the point of the confirmation?_

"No," I answered, dispelling his doubts.

"Hm, then excuse me to wonder, why are we here?" His voice, floating toward me through the mist, was deep, and not at all unsteady…unlike my own voice, which had an unnerving tendency to shake when he was around.

It wasn't the only part of me that shook when he was around, either.

But I was determined not to let him know that.

"I intend to change your mind about killing this man."

He seemed amused by this idea. "Oh really?" he asked in a jocular tone. "And why do you want that?"

"Does it matter?"

"I guess not. So, how do you plan to succeed in your attempt?" Illumi wanted to know, his deep voice dripping with sarcasm.

"By trading his life." I sounded sure of myself, even if I wasn't exactly feeling that way.

"This is not a gambling game, Kil. Besides, this lousy man worth more than you think."

The moon appeared momentarily from behind the blanket of clouds overhead, just long enough for me to see his fingers holding three of his oddly-shaped needles. He wouldn't let his guard down, so we were even.

"How much do you want?"

"It is not about the money either," he replied, more tonelessly than before.

I shook my head at him, chuckling mirthlessly. "It's _always_ been about the money."

"You always think low of me, Kil. It's pretty hurtful, you know."

"I'm not really in the mood for jokes. Not that you're good at telling them, in the first place."

His expression hardened. Almost bleary. "Testing my patience now, aren't you?" There was something smug about his tone, and it irritated me. "You've changed."

_Why did I hear a taste of pride in his voice?_

"What do you want?"

I was getting tired of the whole thing.

"Let's see, what do I want? What could I possibly want from you?"

The tension was growing again, much more strongly this time.

"Don't say it," I said.

"I can't think of another way to trade this man's life, I'm sorry. Though I wouldn't say it would be fair. You worth more than this."

I didn't say anything. I don't think I could have spoken if I'd tried. It was hard enough just to breathe. I had to swallow down something—something that tasted really bad—before I could reply. "You're sick."

"You don't have to be stubborn," he chided. "Just think about it."

"There is noway in hell."

Illumi pursed his lips, and focused his gaze on Aizawa once again.

"Well then, I guess there is no agreement after all."

With no hesitation, he plunged his piercing hand into Aizawa stomach twice with a chilling brutality, making him scream mindless of curses, his blood splattered in every direction, including my clothes. My ears, my mind, started to hum like a fuzzy, blank TV channel. And I lost control, completely.

With a kind of raw strength I didn't know I still had, I punched him.

Countless times throughout my life, I'd felt like punching someone, especially Illumi. But never before had I ever acted on the urge, not seriously. Definitely not as seriously as I did, then. I didn't even realize I was doing it, for God's sake. Not until I heard the sound of bone colliding with bone, followed up by a sharp pain that shot up through my knuckles and into my chest. I attempted not to use my Nen, because I was _not_ looking for a death match.

He dodged the second strike. I sort of got him on the side of his crazy head, instead, just above his ear. I couldn't even hit him hard enough to knock him to the ground; just enough to get him to loosen his balance, so I could grip on Aizawa's shirt, and pull him as far as I could while Illumi busied himself with the recoil.

He steadied himself on his feet, and took me in with a terrifying glare. "Ah, Killua," he hissed, wiping the thin line of blood out of the corner of his mouth. "What am I going to do with you?"

I pulled the sleeves of my white shirt up to my elbows, but that was not why I didn't answer him right away. It was because I was frantically trying to adjust my mind to the fact that I had just hit him for the first time, without having any second thought.

"What, Killua?" he continued. "Do you intend on trying to kill me with the same moves that I once taught you as a way of bonding? You think that would work with me? You think you have a chance against me? 'Never fight a superior opponent.' What about this basic rule?" he demanded menacingly.

I met his sharp stare with one of my own. "It's mainly one of your family's bullshit."

"_Our_ family," he reminded. Before I could even blink, he swiftly moved to stand behind me, his hand clasping both my wrists. "We've made you out of scratch." His voice was calm as his breathing by my ear was easy, raspy, and steady. "Out of scratch, brother. Keep that in mind." And then there it came, the deathly manipulating aura. I stopped moving. My heartbeat seemed to echo through the whole park.

I was fighting a losing battle, there. Illumi had hands of steel.

Next thing I knew, I felt this hand, the same hand that had been around my wrists not too long ago, hit the back of my neck. He was going for a pressure point. The not-so-unfamiliar dirty trick. But by the time I realized that, it was too late. Darkness already tinged the edges of my vision, creeping in towards the center to eat up the rest. I felt weightless. Helpless.

But it only served to make me dizzy, and I clutched at the tree for support.

"I didn't come here to hurt you," he clarified, his eyes full of pity. "But you left me no choice."

The pain in my back had dulled to a dim ache. With a grimace, I grabbed a stronger hold on the branch, as I waited for the earth to stop wobbling.

I underestimated him.

What he said next turned every drop of blood in my veins to slush.

"Who is she, Kil?"

"Who are you talking about?" I panted.

"The girl with the musky scent. It's hard to miss such a fragrance all over your clothes."

Before I could think of a lie, it was too late. He figured it out on his own.

The moon chose that moment to slip out from behind the thick veil of clouds overhead, and I could see by its pale light that Illumi wore an absurdly malicious expression. "Fascinating," I heard him murmur to himself. The darkness spread, but I knew he was smiling. I could hear it in his voice, and it increased when he noticed my fist. I suppose he thought for a minute that he'd finally broken me down. Found my weakness. Successfully lured me to the dark side.

And all for the low, low price of that man's life.

Not.

His voice, hissing down at me, was deadly serious. "You want me to make her disappear?"

I underestimated him. And now I was being mind-fucked.

But, I couldn't let my fear show. Weakness only seems to trigger cruelty, not compassion, from people like Illumi.

"You can kill him," I said, my tongue and lips forming the words with difficulty because they, like my heart, had gone ice cold with dread. "Kill him and get the hell out of here."

A few more stabs, and with a final gasp, Aizawa stopped breathing.

Illumi stood in his full height, gazing into my blanked face.

"You're still not good enough, Kil," he declared, wearily. "When you think you are capable of killing me, I want you to let me know. That's my last request."

He vanished into the fog.

It took me a minute to realize I was free. Cool air rushed into all the places where his aura had resided. Against a plane of havoc wrought thinking, I dashed lithely between rows and shelves of the predominant silence, concentrating wholly on how I made it through the night. Probably not in the greatest way, but still.

It wasn't pure silence, though.

Just…none-speaking, none-moving, none-acting, none-changing. Static, punctuated by the rainfall. Gods crying. Who were they crying for?

_Ugh, who cares…_

It was when I started to move Aizawa's body, my hearing caught a sudden movement in the air.

Then came the heavy footfalls. My back stiffened and I listened more carefully, uncertain of what to assume. Someone. There was someone moving rapidly through the trees; but its speed came from panic, and panic made it clumsy and careless.

I breathed in, hardly. This was it.

* * *

_"Mommy, what is hate?" Yuki demanded with an innocent smile, and curious eyes._

_"Something you don't want to feel." Her mother's face was solemn, full of burning regret._

_"But…why does everyone talk about it?" Yuki was unknowing, full of questions._

_"Because hate… can change everything. It can ruin everything." Her mother was knowing, not wanting to answer. _

_"What does it feel like?" Yuki was steadfast, stubborn._

_"It burns. It eats you up until the person you once were is gone. Replaced by a monster." The mother's answer was emotionless, whispering. _

_"Monster?"_

_Fear._

_"Yes, Yuki. Monster."_

_Confirmation._

* * *

**Yuki's PoV**

I stopped running. I looked ahead and I was faced by a familiar back. His hands were by his side, his white hair blowing in the breeze. I let my heart slow down from its accelerated beating, but I was just preparing for something even more heart pounding that was to come.

"Killua?"

He whirled around. His irises were black; lifeless, and full of something that made the depths of my insides shiver.

I observed his shirt. It was spattered with blood all over.

Panic flared me. "God," I moaned. "Are you injured?" He just stared at me; unwilling to respond. "How the hell did you—"

The scene before me silenced my senses, and dulled my nerves.

I was confronted by the sight of Aizawa's corpse on the ground, surrounded by his half-dried blood and ruptured by enormous cuts. Not only it created unease, but it also unblocked the sudden realization out which instantly dawned upon me. A lot of thoughts stirred in the deeper regions of my mind when my impossibly widened eyes flickered to Killua's shirt again.

"It's okay," he told me. He extended his arm for me to reach. And then I saw it.

His hand.

It was covered with blood, the rain was gently washing it clean. The scene touched a deserted memory.

The boy from the dream. The white-haired kid.

"No," I breathed.

_"I feel like I saw this building before."_

Uncontrollably, I retrieved our past conversations faster than the ticks of the clock.

_"I know you since you were a little girl."_

"No."

_"Ever since I was born, I was raised to kill."_

"No."

_"I was taught in the ways to kill. That was my only talent. And my only skill; to kill."_

"No."

_"I wasn't meant to be innocent."_

"No." Was all I could manage to muster.

I felt myself reel all the way across the globe, _twice_, as soon as reality had seeped in.

I felt so small.

Small and defeated.

My one true sense was gone—breaking beneath the weight of silence. I drifted into solid numbness. The blood in my veins became sulfur, corroding me away from the inside-out.

My voice had cracked so much, I could barely carry it above a whisper. "So, you are…." I couldn't say it. My breath hitched just from thinking about it.

My whole body was shaking. Like I was epileptic.

I had no idea what to say, how to feel, what to think of it all. I really didn't. I was lost. I was torn between the need of throwing myself at him, seeking comfort in his arms, and the desire of ripping them out at the same time.

Once the memories began to seep into my skull, it put me in an even worse stupor than the numbness in my limbs did. I felt so many things about the whole thing in that one moment that in a way, I hardly felt anything at all. Like I was in a coma, dreaming, no matter how badly I wanted to wake up.

In a way, I wished—and kind of still wish—that I _had _been dreaming. That everything that had happened up until this point had been nothing more than a nightmare. But reality bitch-slapped me again when I saw his claws, confidently sticking out of his hand.

The injury I was expecting wasn't meant to be physical, after all. I couldn't bring myself to sigh with relief, however, far from it. I might have escaped with my life, I guess—but I'd lost something even more precious than it.

No, not something. Some_one_. A friend. No, not even that. More. Much more than I had wanted him to be. And I was helpless through the whole damn thing.

Reality was a cold, hard, marrow-munching bitch.

Sympathy. Friendship. Purpose. Love. All of that vanquished like smoke in thin air. All in one minute. In one second.

_Hatred._

It bubbled like a hot, thick concoction made by a witch inside me. As long as his stares penetrated, the voice inside of me screamed, _Attack him_! But I stayed calm, because I knew the consequences.

Him. Of whom was my bestfriend. Of whom laughed with me. Of whom I trusted.

Though dazed, my mind already perceived the world through a different view; eyesight became fuzzy around the edges and color became dull.

_…how could I have been so pitifully blind?_

The truth was lying right under my nose the whole time. All I needed to do was getting the pieces together, but I was way too drowned to even consider solving the damn puzzle.

_I lost. _Plain English, and yet I can't describe how foreign those two little words, one syllable each, sounded to me as the back of my mind echoed it, over and over and over again.

Almost as quickly as I'd blown up, I burned out, my ears, the entire place still ringing with my tirade. I had nothing else to say to him, or if I did, the sudden spike of pain kept me from thinking of anything.

_Say something. _

It wasn't worth it.

_He_ wasn't worth it, I corrected.

He smirked.

I had _never, EVER _seen him smirk like that, the whole time I'd known him. Yet there it was, in plain view. That was the first and last time I saw him do it. I had to squint beyond the fog of my blurry vision just to make sure I was seeing a real smirk, not a mirage.

All my life, I had imagined how the true Zaoldyeck Smirk would look like. It was the exact same smirk I had always seen in my worst nightmares. It was a very tiny smirk, and incredibly evil, coming from the guy behind it. Almost child-like. I'll never forget that smirk.

"This is what Karma looks like, huh?" I heard him say.

That was it. When I heard that…_that. Was. It. _All that empathy I'd had towards him, probably all the way back from day one, accumulated in front of me in a tear-induced fog.

I got all deadly-quiet. Empty.

Marcus arrived beside me_. _His expression cowered. And by the way his Adam's apple throbbed up and down his throat, I could tell he was at a true loss for words. I wasn't the only one that the world was crashing on top of.

"Holy shit." Marcus' voice came out barely past a shaky breath.

It was just when I'd _started _to think that things couldn't go any more downhill, they did. No. No, they didn't just go downhill. They spiraled straight to the bowels of a full-bodied hell, in a way that I would've never in my right mind—or anyone, for that matter—seen coming.

Hundreds. No, thousands of police officers appeared from every corner, their big guns aiming at Killua. But he didn't twitch a muscle, his emotionless eyes kept meeting mine, unwilling to take them off. Almost instinctively, I tried to find a way for him to escape, but there wasn't.

No guessing, this was truly the end.

Only as I tried to clear my head, did I realize that I meant everything I'd said back there. To him. Never have I ever felt that awful about being honest. And that was the terrible part. I did. I _did _mean it. I meant every word I said, exactly as I said them.

It really_ is_ possible to hate someone as much as you love them, at the same time. And it was a horrible feeling, probably one of the worst feelings ever, just after helplessness. The feeling that the whole world was crashing down around me, and all I could do was watch it burn to ashes.

"Restrain him!" Marcus ordered his men.

Killua was still in refusal to move.

He boringly glanced back at them, and I watched them put his hands behind his back.

And I wondered, between the two of us, which one was the biggest loser?

Eventually, I was sapped of every ounce of tenacity in me. My knees betrayed me as I was forced to fall down, my melting face nearly touching the ground.

_Where was the justice in any of this?_

I could feel Marcus' hands on my shoulders, shaking me out of whatever the world I had been dropped into.

I couldn't move, or speak. There was no words for this. Silence had become the most deafening noise I had ever heard in my life. Emptiness fell on me like an avalanche, as the storm around us began to grow weary. Like it'd lost the will to keep going.

I plunged further into the darkness.

_Loss._

Memories slunk past my mind. Just like shadows. When I tried to catch them, they disappeared. Like bouncing on sunlight, or trying to catch smoke. Like trying to find the end of a rainbow, before it faded.

It was a lost cause. Just like me.

I saw that person, who claimed to be close to me, but I couldn't remember him. I was alone. Surrounded by people, but all alone. The memories I once had. Destroyed, faded, gone with the wind.

There was nothing to remember. Not anymore.

I needed to feel something. I wanted to grip whatever was close to me; Marcus' hand. But I couldn't.

_Weakness._

Even my past, my present, everything was going too fast. I couldn't comprehend.

The lies he spew. The truth I was told by him.

I couldn't tell the difference anymore.

Resentment was seeping in. Darkness was filling my heart.

_Surrender._

These walls that I used to so desperately protect, I was now struggling to tear down. I was burning bridges that took so long to be built.

The only choice I had now was to admit defeat. To be the person that I had never wanted to be. The thing I never wanted to become. I needed someone to save me from myself.

Because the old me was gone.

_Replaced by a monster._

* * *

**A/N:** This story is definitely not over.


	24. Disarm

** do not own Hunter X Hunter.**

* * *

_**24. Disarm**_

**Killua's PoV**

Normally for someone like me, the coming of the dawn brought hope to my thoughts. Recently though, dawn only brought misery.

Dispersion. This was the first word I used to describe the current situation I faced when I regained consciousness and forced my mind to be fully awoke. It was rather suitable, I decided. I could barely recount what happened after I got to the police station, or before slumber eventually overtook me.

The room I was in had no clock and I did not know what the time was. They locked me onto an iron chair, a special instrument used to tie up criminals, and put shackles on my legs. They took turns watching me and did not allow me to sleep at first, but they surrendered when I made no intention to speak or react. Sometimes five to six policemen watched me. I heard one of them saying brazenly, "Do you think we will be able to get any share of the prize?"

"Yes, I'm certain of that," responded his fellow. "I should get the best share because I helped in restraining him, you know. It was me who handcuffed him. I still can't believe I restrained a Zaoldyeck!"

"Dude, that's major!"

_This is pathetic_, I thought bitterly.

Even a half-mind would have taken notice that I made no resistance at all when they claimed to be controlling me. I didn't fight. How foolish of them to assume that restraining a Zaoldyeck would demand two or three police officers. I never knew the police in this country could be so epically idiots.

However, I should give Marcus some credit. The guy knew everything. I could tell from the glares he was sending my way that he understood the reason why I refused to escape, or why I had been persistent to stay calm no matter what.

They made sure to take all the necessary precautions in order to avoid any sudden reaction from my part, so they gave me a high dosage of muscle relaxants which made me feel kinda funny, and slightly euphoric, but it wasn't good enough. I could still knock their teeth out. One by one.

But I behaved. I've always been a good prisoner.

I missed Milluki. These men were no fun at all. Being restrained was only interesting when I could engage some kind of provocation, and these men didn't bother to encounter me in order to offer me any kind of entertainment. It was not like I was in the mood, but being all by myself in this room began to irritate the hell out of me.

What was Marcus waiting for? They were certainly not planning to kill me. Not yet, at least. And they stopped their interrogation, as if they were cooking something for me outside this room, which in all honesty, did not smell nice.

Regardless of my complete oblivious state, which was being caused by the drugs running in my system, I intended not to make any movement by holding myself back the whole time and shutting down the hopelessly negative thoughts from my mind.

Quite a few from my father's flat lessons were still entrenched in my head up to this day. I had learned to despise them throughout the years. All of them except a single one.

_"Always keep your cool and composure. Even if there are tons of battles raging inside of you, do not allow your instincts to surpass you."_

My instincts were not that sharp anyway. I blamed my uncharacteristic sadism on the lack of decent sleep yesterday and the fact that I hadn't eaten or drunk anything all morning. I was woefully out of sorts; a short fuse was only to be expected._  
_

Utterly bored by the lack of distractions, I made the effort to raise my head and take in my surroundings. I frowned in distaste. The room could hardly fit two men. The walls were a pure white. The ceiling was too high, and there was a small window at the end of it. It created an atmosphere of alienation in the chamber.

The cuffs around my wrists started to bother me. How many times was I supposed to clarify my requirement to that said detective? I only asked for one meeting. For _one_ visit. He was supposed to be able to make it happen.

I honestly used to believe that detectives had this majestic way of convincing people, but I eventually came to realize that it was merely a prosaic bullshit. Marcus was no Sherlock Holmes.

I never really understood this public admiration for Sherlock Holmes anyway, or for detectives in general. Both of them always grated on my nerves. Especially Holmes. Because in his ridiculously heroic stories, they get all this undue recognition as a great scientific mind and he's not. He jumps to wildly improbable conclusions on the thinnest of evidence without a moment consideration of alternative hypotheses. And he couldn't be wrong. The ultimate cliché.

If there was a possible resemblance between Marcus and Holmes, it would be the shortage of critical thinking. Despite the fact that I've always been annoyed by Holmes, it would be unfair to compare him to a rookie like Marcus.

Wait.

…was I evaluating Marcus according to a personal perspective? No, I couldn't be the jealous type. It's true that I disliked the guy, probably hated him even. To the core. To the depths of my soul. But not the point to feel threatened by him.

She was the only motivation behind my sudden decency towards Marcus. I knew it would do me no good if I hurt him, or if I even gave him a simple scratch. If anything, it would probably make everything much worse, and it would also make my endurance in this place seem very insignificant.

_Few more hours. I should last few more hours._

There was an eerie silence in the small room until it was filled with the creak of the door. Nonchalantly, I rose my head again and peered up at the intruders with one opened eye. Marcus stood forth in his usual posture; hands across his chest, his gaze defiant and his jaw tensing. An unfamiliar muscular man stood beside him in a challenging sort of way, holding a whip in his hand.

Impressive.

"So, do you like my little room?" Marcus inquired casually, as though his mate was not about to beat me within an inch of my life.

"It's decent."

"I particularly like the walls," the huge man commented. "This way when I beat you, I can see your pretty little blood all over the place." He smiled at me now, a wide smile showing me all of his half-broken teeth.

"I had hoped that I wouldn't have to do this, but I can't handle it anymore," Marcus said quietly. "We tried to get you to open up to us, but you won't listen. We warned you. If you would just speak, you'd make this easier."

I upped my chin. "I do have this tendency to become difficult when I don't get what I want."

Marcus' eyes twitched in irritation. "You have a lot of nerve asking me to do such a thing! I would never allow you to see her again!"

I closed my eyes once more with a soft sigh. "Well then I guess there is no agreement after all," I said, echoing Illumi.

"Listen to me," Marcus hissed. "I'm going to make you speak. No matter what it takes."

A small smirk escaped from me. "It's not gonna work. But nonetheless, knock yourself out."

"Oh, I will. Now tell me, did you kill Aizawa all by yourself?"

"I don't remember."

_Slap._

It resounded through the room. Echoing._  
_

"Were you the one who blackmailed Aizawa?"

"Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn't."

_Slap. Slap.  
_

"Should we expect another murder by your family anytime soon?"

"I wish I could tell you."

_Slap. Slap. Slap._

I coughed. The whip accidentally hit my neck several of times, and I should admit that I kind of underestimated the man's ability to make the impact this overwhelming. But I was not going to give him the honor of uncovering my helplessness. There was no way I was going to appear vulnerable.

I maintained a careless expression when I looked up at Marcus.

"Goddammit!" he screamed. "Do _not_ dare to give us a hard time! I could finish you in this instant!"

The man next to him panted, obviously tired.

I tasted blood. My teeth had cut the inside of my mouth.

"I promise you this could last weeks! Your stubbornness would cost you your life!" he added.

"You can still do the easy thing," I suggested between heavy breaths. I was unable to hide the thickness in my voice.

"Over my dead body!" he sputtered.

"If that's your choice, then my hands are tied. Literally and figuratively," I finished with another smirk.

Marcus' hands grabbed the collar of my shirt. "You," he swished, looking intently into my half-opened eyes. "Are a piece of garbage!"

I exhaled deeply, hoping my control would remain a few more minutes. I was perfectly aware of the consequences of acting so recklessly at the moment. I forbade myself from crossing the line by killing him.

I decided to sit silently.

Marcus released my shirt and gestured to the man, and I was greeted by the whip's multiple strokes once again. The smacks intensified, as well as the burning of my skin, though for the most part, the stinging hits had numbed that area of my face.

I concentrated on counting the minutes, realizing it would be the best distraction. If I let my fury dominated, I'd regret it later.

Thirty minutes had passed. Marcus' patience was growing thin. When it was too much to endure, the man dropped the whip fiercely on the floor. I suppressed a smile, remembering that it was Milluki's exact reaction.

And then the slaps changed to blows. His fists continued to hit me any and everywhere. And then he stopped, taking sharp and uneven breaths.

I spat out blood. My breathing went heavier. His hand that stroke my chest was like a vice, firmly squeezing the life out of me. My vision blurred as the veins popped out of my neck, my attempts to resist the submission started to get unsuccessful. I needed more power. In the past, Milluki was the only person allowed to hit me, which was something I should be thankful for, honestly.

However, this man here was different. His determination and hatred could not reach Milluki's, I was certain of that, but he was ten times stronger than my brother.

An hour had passed, and my sufferance was still unstoppable. Blood welled in my mouth, a sick copper taste. Mustering all my strength, I calmly looked into Marcus' terrified eyes. Again.

"I told you this is not gonna work," I muttered, surprised of how stable my voice sounded.

"_What_ are you?" Marcus whispered in defeat, clearly bemused. "You should be unconscious by now." He paced frantically in the narrow space. "_Why_ are you _not_ unconscious?" he yelled, slightly hysterical.

I straightened my shoulders. "Does this mean you're giving up?"

Marcus' fists clenched. The man noticed that from the corner of his eye, and he rose his hand above my face for another blow, but Marcus grasped it at the last minute before it was connected with my cheek.

"Eiji," he addressed the man. "Leave us alone." Eiji looked like he was about to protest, but relaxed when Marcus nodded at him. He grabbed his whip and shot me brutal glare as he left.

"So," I said when the room turned dark again. "I suppose you are really giving up."

Marcus looked away. "No, but I decided to have a man-to-man conversation with you."

"Finally," I breathed. A little impatient, I quickly unfastened the handcuffs around my wrists and ankles, knocking them down on the floor. I rubbed my hands indifferently, aware of Marcus' shocked stare. Then I used my sleeve to wipe the blood out of the corners of my mouth and let out a relieved sigh. "Good decision," I continued. "Now I'll not feel inclined to call you a coward again."

He pursed his lips. "Alright," he replied. "Let's see. What do you want?"

"I'll offer you another deal."

"Which is?"

I stretched before stuffing my hands in my pockets. "If you get her to come here, I promise I'll guarantee your life."

"A-ar-are you threatening me?" he stammered.

"Nah." I crossed my legs. "I'm merely offering you a deal."

He blinked. "Y-yo-you are an asshole!"

I smiled. "No, I'm just a Zaoldyeck."

* * *

_"Killua, I wasn't going to tell you this, but there's a girl who's been drawing you for the past half hour or so." _

_Killua glanced up from his cup of tea and gave Gon a quizzical look. "What are you talking about?" _

_Gon shifted slightly in his seat across from his friend and leaned forward over the picnic table where they had taken up for. Curiously, Killua leaned forward as well, wondering if he was going to be bequeathed with some deep, dark secret. _

_"She's sitting on the third table to your left, sketchbook out, pencil scratching, and staring up at you every few moments, as she's been doing for the past hour," Gon said in low tones, his face changing different shades of colors. _

_The ex-assassin was somewhat mystified as to why someone who he didn't know would be interested in drawing him. Curious, he decided to look over, but Gon stopped him. _

_"Killua! Don't look at her! It would be obvious!" he whispered harshly. _

_Killua gave him a critical look. "And it isn't obvious that she's drawing me?" he queried. "Why would anyone be drawing me, anyway?"_

_"I don't know. That's what I've been pondering the past half hour or so." Gon blushed, sending the girl sheepish quick glances.  
_

_Killua frowned at him. "And why didn't you tell me earlier?" _

_"What would that have accomplished?" _

_"Well, at least I would have known," Killua answered. "And I would have walked right up to her and demanded why she was drawing me, if I had known." _

_Gon laughed at him. "Why don't you go now?" _

_Killua froze. "What?"_

_"Why don't you go ask her now?"  
_

_Killua blinked rapidly. "Because!" _

_"Because?" Gon promoted. _

_"Because it's insane!" Killua shook his head. "And you are insane!"_

_"Killua, she just a girl. __The type who_ dreams about being swept off her feet, falling in love, living happily ever after. There's nothing scary about that," Gon declared. 

_"I'm not scared, you idiot! Since when are you a lady expert anyway?" _

_Gon blushed further. "I… am NOT a lady expert! That's what you understood from what I said?" _

_"Forget it, I'm not going to ask her why she's been drawing me. Boy, hearing myself saying that out loud makes the idea even more imbecile!" _

_Gon pursed his lips, annoyed. "Mito-san used to say something and I feel that it is my duty to pass it to you. Girls are probably just as scared of you as you are of them," he informed in a matter of fact tone that Killua found ridiculous._

_"Yes, they also say that about bears. 'They're just as scared of you as you are of them,' and yet the bear is the one that's most likely to attack," Killua retaliated._

_"Oh my God," Gon groaned. "She's not going to attack you, Killua!"_

_"I don't mean that literally! God, read between the lines!"  
_

_Gon furrowed an eyebrow; it was his turn to be mystified now. "I don't think I'm following you." He sighed. "Well, at least try looking at her cautiously. You might want to know how the drawing is coming out to be." _

_Killua couldn't resist, of course, and he supposed Gon already knew that. Setting down the hot cup, he turned resolutely on the bench and sought out this girl with narrowed eyes._

_He found her perched atop the third table over, a sketchbook on her knees and a pencil twirling effortlessly in her fingers. Her white dress shone brilliantly in the sunlight. She was focused on him, a look of concentration engraved on somewhat elfin features._

_She stared at him._

_This realization sent a sudden shudder to his skin. Her gaze was so intent that he could almost feel it poking and prodding at him, and his cheeks burned at this realization. He turned swiftly back to Gon, who was regarding him with a grin._

_"She was staring at me," he told him dumbly._

_Gon's eyes flickered to the side. "She's still staring."_

_"Dammit, what a stalker!" _

_"Be nice! What's wrong with you? Maybe she does like you!" Gon reasoned. He turned to the girl and gave her one of his famous wide smiles. "Look at her, isn't she beautiful?" _

_Killua crossed his arms, desperately disturbed by this conversation. "Then allow me to wonder, why don't you go and talk to her?" _

_"Because she is drawing you, not me!" _

_"Whatever," Killua breathed. _

_"You know what…__?" Gon began deviously. "I __dare_ you to go up to her and ask why she's drawing you." 

_"No! Forget it! Let's just pretend she's not even here okay? What would your clever challenge accomplish anyway?" Killua demanded. The mere thought of approaching this strange girl gave him nervous wiggles in his stomach._

_"Well, she would reply. And you would know if she is simply an astute art student or a creepy, deranged girl who will commit nefarious deeds with your likeliness," Gon replied, grinning in a familiar way that both irked Killua and made him want to smile back._

_"I'd rather not think about it," Killua said __swiftly. "In fact, I will ignore her. And you. You both are frustratingly intimidating." _

_"Ha! I knew it! You are scared of her!" _

_"Why would I be scared of her? Be realistic!" Killua shot back. _

_"You're scared that you might like her and you would later end up being a heartbroken Romeo." _

_"Oh common!" _

_Gon smirked. Killua shuddered. _

_"I know I'm right," Gon said. "You are basically a coward who is afraid of love." _

_Killua took a sip, satisfied that Gon had finally forgotten about that artist of a girl. "I'm not afraid of love."_

_ "Yes you are," Gon objected. _

_"Don't call me a liar!" _

_"But you are a liar! A huge one, actually. Because not only you are lying to me, but also to yourself. Mito-san used to say that this is the real liar." _

_Killua laughed. "Your dearest Mito-san would be the reason of my depression someday. I'm going to sue her if that happens."_

_"Be serious, Killua!" _

_"Leave me in peace, Gon." _

_"No, I want to know why are you so afraid of love." _

_"God, I told you! I'm not afraid of love. I dislike the idea of it, that's all," Killua finally conceded. _

_Gon leaned forward once again, seemingly more interested now. "Why is that?" _

_"Because you see, love for me is like handing someone a gun, having them point it at your heart and trusting them never to pull the trigger."_

_"That's pessimism!" Gon interjected. _

_"But it's true," Killua said while taking the final sip of his tea. "The idea of not having full control on myself is what frightens me, that's it." _

_"Mhm," Gon mused, staring at the other side. "She's still staring by the way." Gon narrowed his eyes. "Oh, she's taking out something from her purse. Wait… what's that? A camera? Killua, she took out a camera, what does that mean?" He gasped softly. "That's kinda creepy." _

_Killua whirled his head slightly. His eyes widened._

_"The hell? She's pointing her camera at us!" _

_"That's weird," Gon noted. "What if she has like, you know, a Hisoka-creepy-stalking way? he asked anxiously. _

_Killua looked back at his friend. They both blinked. _

_And blinked. _

_And blinked again. _

_"…shall we go, now?" _

_"Yes, please."  
_

* * *

"You're saying that I have to bring her up here because the lives of everyone in this place depend on it?" Marcus eventually found his voice. We locked eyes for a long time. I studied him very intently, feeling that he would probably make this difficult for both of us. "What could you possibly do if I refused?" he asked.

I leaned forward resting my elbows on my thighs, dropping my hands limply between my legs. Yes, he was purposefully making this difficult. I felt my heart thump uneasily in my chest. As much as I understood his concern, I detested it in equal measure.

"I would have to use whatever it takes to get out of here. You perfectly know what that is going to require," I answered.

"You are so sure of yourself. Do you really think you can surpass thousands of police officers? One bullet from their guns would be the end of everything."

"Try me."

His eyes twitched. "Why should I submit when_ I_ am the one who's holding you hostage?"

"You're holding me hostage because I'm allowing you do so, not because of your almighty power. You might like to add that."

"Do not speak with me with that tone!" Marcus threatened, clutching at his gun now. I eyed his hand indifferently.

"You won't shoot me; at least not somewhere deadly," I muttered under my breath.

There was a flash of defiance in his eyes. "You wanna bet?" Marcus challenged, his features twisted into a snarl. He cocked his gun, aiming it straight for my head.

"Put that down. You're making this a lot more worse."

Marcus' eyes narrowed, but he didn't lower the gun. "I have the liberty to do whatever I want in this place. Why are you so sure I won't kill you right now?"

"Because you are not a killer," I said calmly. "And because you care about her," I added, mentally scoffing at the words I said. "You wouldn't do something she doesn't approve of."

"I'm telling you, she wouldn't appreciate me killing you because she would want to do that herself, not because she cares about you."

Man, how enjoyable it would have been if I had ripped out his throat in that instant.

"I'll accept that," I told him, embracing my control with great effort.

He continued to glare at me, waiting for me to say something more. I waited him out, careful not to show any reaction to the knowledge that the smallest movement from his finger could bring a lot more trouble.

He finally pulled back the gun, his expression was blank. "Fine, but what if she refused to come here? I can't drag her against her will."

"If that happens, then you are free to do whatever you find suitable with my case. I'll allow you to determine my punishment," I lied.

"_Anything_ I want?" he checked. "How generous of you!" he scolded, baring his teeth out.

"That's my offer."

My irritation was like a fireball, setting my nerves aflame and making my eyes go out of focus. I struggled to undo the buttons on my sleeves and used both hands to tear few of the shirt buttons as well, feeling the cool air on my chest. My breathing got better, but the lump in my throat was still present.

"I think you are lying," Marcus commented, suddenly intensifying his gaze towards me. "If you think of yourself as someone with god complexes who is capable of beating professional officers, then why haven't you tried to escape earlier? In fact, you should have been gone by now if you trust your abilities to that point which I believe should be enough for you. You don't need my permission in order to see her, so why don't you kill me now and prove to me that your claims are true?"

"Because I care about her too," I replied quickly. "Killing you wouldn't help my case. If anything, she would definitely hate me even more."

"Oh," Marcus said. He had something like recognition in his eyes. "Now it's all crystal clear." He placed his gun back to his hip, the intensity in his eyes tapered off. "Alright, I will accept this. But if you tried to hurt her, I swear to God, I'll make your existence a living hell."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I'm warning you, I do not react well when something that belongs to me is threatened."

I felt a burning thrill run through me at this. His possessiveness of her was sickening. That jarring statement of his brought the room back into focus, and I had to remember to start breathing again before he noticed. My muscles were a riot of invisible tremors and my skin was tingling fiercely. I inhaled and forced myself to banish the sensations by controlling my reactions before I made a fool of myself.

"Belongs to you," I murmured inaudibly. "Alright," I continued. "Just do your job and I'll be grateful."

Shaking his head to clear it, Marcus started heading towards the door.

"How's she?"

The faint voice that came from me made him pause for a moment, unreadable stare in his now pain-filled expression; he seemed to be reliving back an unwelcome memory.

He cracked the door open with slow movements, and spoke without looking at me, "I seriously don't know."

* * *

_Marcus grasped his phone in one hand, his other hand rested on the table, drumming his fingers on the surface. The sound reverberated through the thick silence, and each tap made him more and more impatient. Finally, his phone rang. _

_ "Hello? Ueda-san?" _

_"I'm sorry it took me so long to call you. I had a patient," the elder man spoke through the line. _

_"No problem, Ueda-san." _

_"So, what is it, Marcus-kun? Is she okay?"_

_"I don't know. She hasn't woken up yet," __Marcus answered, rubbing his temple furiously. "I'm getting worried."_

_"Did you give her the medications I recommended?" Ueda's voice was calm, soothingly in control. _

_"Yes."_

_"Then don't worry. She would be fine," the psychiatrist reassured quietly. _

_There was an intense silence. _

_"Marcus-kun? You still there?"  
_

_"He's asking for her, Ueda-san. I honestly don't know what do," Marcus said, his chest erupted in flames, silencing his groans immediately. "I've never been so helpless. Should I tell her? I'm afraid her condition might get much worse if I did."_

_Ueda waited a minute before responding._

_"You should tell her."_

_"What are you saying?" Marcus growled, and suddenly stood up, tightening the phone between his fingers. "Are you sure it'd be a good idea? You don't know how dangerous the guy seemed to be."_

_"It's the right thing to do," Ueda responded firmly. "Where is he?"_

_"He's waiting for her, placing a huge burden on my shoulders by doing that. What should I do? I don't know what to choose. My duty as a detective, or my duty as friend?" He sat down again, his body felt heavy. "Damn it all." _

_"It's her choice, Marcus-kun," Ueda said. "Let her know everything, and have faith in her strength. She's not as bad as you think."  
_

* * *

I was left alone. Again.

Sunset was approaching, surrounding the little room with an orange hue.

Despite the serenity around me, the atmosphere failed to reach me. It was as though I sat inside a bubble, watching the world from inside a sterile cocoon. The everpresent boredom and an encroaching weariness had leeched the taste of everything, all the color from everything. It would have made a lesser man cry, but emotion was beyond me. All I felt was disappointment, a listlessness that drowned me.

My increasing apathy would have bothered me in the past, or at least annoyed me with its potential for melodrama or a self-pitying train of thought, but… I just didn't care right now. Nothing meant a great deal as long as I escaped this. And in order to achieve that, I'd have to test my level of endurance for a bit.

Memories of the last few years came unbidden, rising above my consciousness like oil floating on water. Images and sounds flashed across my mind's eye. My family's smiles as I showed them success after success in every mission, and their praise that meant less and less to me. My so-called brothers' admiration that had never really shown, and even their occasional ill-disguised jealous glances. I was meant to have a very successful future.

Currently, I had no idea how to determine that kind of success anymore. Maybe I could be a lawyer? That would be terribly weird. A doctor? Ugh no. A detective? No freaking way. What about a writer?

A faint smirk twisted on my now scarred face.

The idea of writing was laughable. No one needed to read about my private spiral into mindless unfeeling and simultaneous incredible achievement at assassination pursuits. I mocked the idea of myself ever being a father to children, finding baby-talking or tossing kids in the air positively ludicrous. I couldn't even picture myself _smiling _with them_, _for pity's sake. For that matter, I scoffed at the thought of marriage itself.

Success. Whatever it was, it was meaningless to me. Before I met her, I just needed a challenge, something to make me wake in the morning eager to start the day. Something to give me purpose. That was _all._

Damn this entire twist of events. Now everything turned into some horrible downward spiral.

Ironic, that a man's life would be doomed by the way he made a living.

I breathed, willing away the chill that threatened to distract me.

In the last five years, I was growing increasingly tired, and it looked as though the situation was never going to change. Despair was never something I would admit to feel; it was too extreme, but disappointment? Maybe. Tired? Certainly. I was _tired._

Should I be expecting my death to be soon? Perhaps Marcus was right. My stubbornness would bring my downfall.

A sudden crushing weight bore me down, my thoughts effectively derailed. I drew a shuddering breath as this foundation, this very stability, quaked. I should be willing to face the reality that my work, my _life_ was ultimately futile. It had become so…hollow, stripped of anything other than mere survival. So damn _meaningless._

I started to shake. There was this suppressed anger in every pore, cell, and breath in my body. And there was always a room for more._  
_

My eyes stung from the sudden pain in my chest, but I blinked it away, sitting in the icy chair ever so quietly. It was getting colder outside, but I blocked out the distraction and shook my damp hair out of my eyes, refocusing on the sun rays that was pouring from the tiny window. It might have been my imagination, but the air in the room tasted faintly of salt.

I was not supposed to allow myself to feel that sentimental, that _weak_. I rewound my thought process, trying to recall disappointment rather than the hopelessness that had nearly overtaken me. It all started from the point I decided to _think_. How amazing it would have been if I wasn't knowledgeable and experienced in this life. It would have been much easier. Then I wouldn't be constantly searching every detail, analyzing every thought, and I wouldn't be this demanding.

I envied Gon. Naïve minds could never be a frustration. I needed to see the world from his point of view, especially at that moment.

In moments like this, despair was a very real possibility, a monster lurking in the shadows, waiting to overtake me if I ever slipped up. I had felt its breath on my neck a second ago, a cold caress that promised sweet oblivion. If only I could release control of my thoughts, my emotions. It was appealing sometimes, the thought of letting go, not caring what others thought of me and just feeling all the hate and frustration and rage, and maybe, in time, the things like joy and happiness would come back.

I would never surrender control right here and right now, because the idea was incredibly reckless. Besides, I had too much pride for that. Enough of pride to make me think about ending my life myself. Letting them decide the way my life should end while I stood there watching was far too disturbing.

But no, suicide was always out of the question. She once asked me if I ever thought of it, but I kept the answer to myself. Why? Just don't ask. The answer was easy. I thought suicide was outrageous. Unforgivable and a great form of weakness. I was not raised like that, as much as I hated the way my family planned my life, but it somehow managed to provide me with enough strength that would forever forbid me from thinking of such a thing as a way to redeem myself from the agony. I had risked my life, many times probably. I had risked it for the sake of friendship, but not because I knew it would be more comfortable for me.

The door opened. I didn't stiffen because I wasn't prepared for another onslaught of pain. I was confused when I heard the soft tentative footsteps. They weren't familiar to my ears.

A damp cloth began to dab at my forehead and I winced.

"It's okay," a feminine voice murmured.

I immediately raised my head, trying to focus more on the strange face in front of me. My mind struggled to put it together as the face came into focus.

"Who are you?" I heard myself asking.

She lifted the damp cloth, carefully rubbing away the blood off my face. I held still as best as I could, aware that the movement would only irritate the already damaged flesh during the cleaning.

She turned my head trying to get better light on the various bruises and cuts. "You won't need any stitches," she whispered. She lightly ran her fingers over the scars on my neck. I kept my mouth shut, suppressing a whimper despite the flare of pain it had triggered.

"Why are you here?" The question escaped me, sighing at the soothing feeling of the cloth against at my cheek.

"Please keep quiet," she demanded. "I work here, but I actually sneaked in," she admitted shyly, raising her hand to reveal a bottle in her hand. "I brought you some water."

Before I could respond, water was being pressed against my lips. I drank it gratefully, aware that my body was close to being dehydrated. The flow of water stopped and my eyes flickered opened, hoping for more.

"How are you feeling now?" the anonymous girl muttered.

"Better," I said. I hung my head not wanting to meet her eyes. I was finally feeling myself getting vulnerable.

It was a left over reaction from when I was a child. It felt like I was being punished. And it felt like I deserved it. The feeling was unjustified and out of place here in the lair of the police, but my knowledge of this didn't eradicate the residual feel of shame and guilt.

"What's your name?" I inquired. "Have we met sometime?"

Distant footsteps were being heard from the hallway outside the room. The girl shuddered, carried the bottle and turned to the door. "I have to go," she told me, bowing her head in what appeared to be apology. "I'm sorry," she softly whispered.

I recounted her features once again in my mind when the door was shut, dozens of questions ran at the tip of my tongue. I shrugged them off, concentrating more of the main purpose behind my biding on this chair.

Hours had passed, I'm not sure how many, but I could tell they were more than three hours. Darkness had filled the room. A single light appeared when the door swung open again. I sighed in relief when I saw Marcus approaching my spot, holding a new brand of handcuffs in his hands.

Silently, he got down on his knees behind my back, locking the cuffs around my wrists. This should have bothered me, but I only felt a dull acceptance.

He moved to face me. "I'm getting you out of here," he clarified. "I need you to remain handcuffed in front of the officers." He stared at me from head to toe. "Can you stand?"

I tested my weight out on my legs. They appeared steady enough to stand, but I wasn't sure about walking due to the numbness in my feet. I had been sitting for so long although I was able to stand. Having no time to regret that, I started to walk. I sensed the dizziness at first, wobbled a bit, but maintained my balance.

Marcus led the way, but he was walking next to me. I felt the need to ask, "Where are we going?"

"She's here," he answered.


	25. Let the Truth Sting

**Now because I started the first arc with a flashback, I'm going to do the same thing to the second arc. I swear this will be the last angsty chapter for this story. I'm not planning to write any of those in the meantime because angst was never one the story's genres, but it was necessary to begin with. The flashback happened few hours before Yuki decided to confront Killua. **

**I own nothing except my humble creations.**

* * *

**_25. Let the Truth Sting_**

_She doesn't know how long she was out of it. Not that it mattered, except for the fact that it was for too long. She woke up to the sound of thunder rattling the windows, angrier and more relentless than she had ever heard thunder before in her life. Nonetheless, she was not ready to face reality just yet so she soothed herself back to sleep for another bunch of hours._

_She could feel death creeping up on her; slowly, painlessly, peacefully. Everything in her chest became heavier; her breathing labored. She could feel a weight on her soul. And that felt strange. She thought she was completely empty. She thought she could no longer feel anymore.  
_

_Darkness was taking her without a word. The world suddenly looked as though she was looking into a giant cracked mirror._

_Few weeks ago._

_She could have turned away when her intuition pricked. She could have rounded the corner and avoided the boy leaning coolly against the wall, quirking an eyebrow over her fourteen year old body. She could have moved on; gone home. She could have avoided that particular meeting. She could have stayed home and snuggled down into her own warm bed with the purple sheets._

_But she didn't._

_She could have shut out his sweet breath and husky voice. She could have refused the poison he wrapped into her fragile little hands. She could have pushed him away. She could have refused. She could have said no._

_But she didn't._

_She could have run when he started to lead her upstairs to the bittersweet fake nirvana that his gentleness created. She could have pulled her hand away and therefore, she could have stopped it all._

_But she didn't. She kept going, her little heart beating faster with every step._

_And yesterday._

_She could have held strong and blocked out the pain. She could have held her head high and said it didn't matter. She could have not let it shake her. She could have been strong._

_But she wasn't._

_She was the little girl who jumped into the deep end too quickly. The one with all the potential who had it slip away. The one who lost sight of her dreams and let a boy hurt her._

_And she was the little girl who grew up too fast._

_Her eyes opened slowly. The sun was warm on her face. She stared towards the window, watching little specks of dust sparkle in the sunlight. The sheets behind her ruffled, a scalding hot hand wrapped around hers. She was in her old bedroom, where she spent her childhood, wrapped in the daisy patterned duvet of her bed. Yuki reached to her bedside table and flicked on the lamp._

_A circle of light appeared on the ceiling; pure, white, phantom-like._

_Fingers caressed the back of her hand. She couldn't help herself―she shivered at the sudden contact. "I'm so happy you finally woke up," someone said. "Welcome back." She looked up. Bright brown eyes stared back at her curiously but with enough kindness that showed her that those eyes were not alien to her._

_She shook herself from the momentary daze and looked over her friend. "Marcus?" she checked._

_He grasped her hand in his, a small smile playing on his lips. One dimple appeared on his right cheek. It didn't calm her down, however. "You are safe. You are okay, Yuki."_

_If she had had the enough energy, she would have laughed at this poorly-rehearsed reassurance._

_She freed her hand from his to touch her cold cheek, making sure she wasn't dreaming. Wiping away sweat-drops from her face, she saw a flash of red out of the corner of her eye. She noticed the half-tattered ribbon bobbing with her movements. It was smoothly and perfectly tied around her wrist. Almost like a wound on her abnormally pale skin._

_She ran the pads of her fingers over the fraying edges of the ribbon. Like its edges, her memory was hazy; fading. Faces blurred, names were forgotten and places merged to one. Her memories of the ribbon weren't clear, and it felt like they had been made years ago._

_She still couldn't believe it. Her lungs collapsed in on themselves. Her heart went into a fit. It ripped, shattered and split into a million fragments. Everything around her blurred into nothingness. The ribbon around her wrist felt like it weighed a million pounds. It burnt her skin like fire and it chocked her.  
_

_Then ever so instantly, she remembered everything. The memories came back all at once. They resurfaced and presented themselves explicitly in the back of her mind. The waves of pain came and went like a hot gust of wind. She recounted every smile. Every frown. Every touch and every kiss._

_A sour feeling suddenly rose in her stomach. She tried to swallow. It didn't work, so she streaked for the communal bathroom, her hand clasped at her mouth. Marcus followed abruptly. She couched over the toilet and vomited. Whether from self-pity, disgust, grief, or anger, she really didn't know._

_"Dammit, are you okay?"_

_"I'm alright," she panted, flushing the toilet._

_She wiped her mouth and took a moment to stare at Marcus who offered his hand for her. She took it eventually and stood up._

_"Maybe you should see Dr. Ueda, or go stay with Gary for a while," Marcus suggested anxiously._

_"I'm alright," she repeated firmly._

_She pondered her face in the mirror. Her eyes rimmed in kohl earlier that night were now smudged all around and she was wearing a baggy white dress which made her appearance look more ghostly-like. She actually looked like an abandoned bride._

_"Who undressed me?" she asked, unemotionally._

_"I did," Marcus answered. She expected a trace of embarrassment to wash over her. Nothing. "I thought it'd be better to dress you up in something more comfortable. Is it fine?"_

_She didn't feel like answering._

_Marcus ran a hand through her hair in what was supposed to be a tender way. She shrugged it off immediately. Human contact was the least thing she craved for right now._

_Standing up for so long, she started to feel strange. A little high even. She tried to figure out what was that feeling when her vision began to literally blur. She was feeling extremely tired. She looked up at Marcus and was barely able to get out the words as she felt her body beginning to lean forward. The dizziness was on full attack mode and started to feel worse with every movement._

_"What did you give me?" she croaked. She had to clear her throat more than once to reach the tone of her voice._

_"Tranquilizers and Valium."_

_She was fully awake now. "What?" she yelled._

_His lips trembled when he spoke, "Yuki, I had to—"_

_"You drugged me?" she exclaimed._

_Marcus backtracked visibly but still managed to shoot her a glare. "I had to! You didn't witness the state you were under! I had to do what I thought was necessary!"_

_"Giving me this kind of medications was necessary?" She sneered at him. "I wasn't going hysterical, Marcus! And you don't get to do that without my damn permission!"_

_"Gimme a break!" Marcus' voice was just as loud. "You had gone into some kind of unparalleled shock!" He moved closer, his features painful and he actually seemed to be on the verge of tears. "You collapsed in my arms! You freaking collapsed in my arms and you were not responding to anything! What did you expect me to do? You wanted me to stand there and watch you falling apart?"_

_She stared back blankly at his heartbroken face. "Still. This doesn't give you the liberty to drug me." Shaking her head, she moved her hand dismissively. "I need to clean up. Gimme a minute." _

_"Sure, sure," he mumbled._

_Now standing there all by herself but hiding, she did not allow herself to hyperventilate and nothing could be farther from the idea that she has achieved freedom from her burdens. Yuki felt trapped, suffocated and so very alone. She was fearful of the uncertain, and afraid of the unexpected independence she had brought upon herself by her actions. She was ultimately scared to lose control._

_How would she manage?__ Would she be able to cope? __What the hell was she going to do now?_

_She had made mistakes, she'll be the first to admit it. Too many to count, too many to repair. Mistakes that could have been prevented, that should have never happened. But they did. And she would pay dearly for what she had done._

_She was in so damn deep that she was not so sure she could claw her way out._

_When she felt a wave of nausea overcome her once again, she hurriedly flipped open the lid of the toilet again, fell on her knees, hearing the distant sound of retching as her stomach twisted unpleasantly, but she didn't vomit._

_There was a feeling of grime covering her. It was all consuming; the feeling of self disgust. It was irrational, she knew, to blame herself for what had happened. A shudder followed her train of thoughts when she considered the idea of Sam watching her this whole time, shaking his head in sorrow, and her shame grew into anger._

_She found herself sitting on the white tile in a childish gesture, bringing her knees up to her chest, the floor chilled underneath her thighs, though she wasn't really able to entirely feel the capacity of the frigid temperature. She sighed, frustrated, angry and growing increasingly irritated, as the anxiety of what was coming eventually approached her heart._

_Suddenly, she hauled herself to her feet, the thought of meeting him motivated her to move. To do something other than having this pity party in the bathroom._

_She rested her palms on the sink as she peered more closely into the old mirror which was disfigured by cracks and what looked like some form of tarnish._

_The girl staring back at her was hardly recognizable. Her hair was matted around her face and she regarded Yuki warily as if afraid she would lash out shattering the fragile surface she was dependent on. Blue eyes were distant, already recoiling from pain that hadn't occurred._

_Yuki grinned at her, trying to reassure her, trying to encourage her. The girl grimaced in return. _

_She cupped water in her hands, hastily trying to erase the copper metallic taste that now dominated her mouth. The water eventually ran clear, and she splashed some on her face, the stinging feeling gratifying._

_"Hey, are you okay in there?" Marcus called from behind the door. He came to check on her right after a minute, when he was supposed to. He always did; he was prompt and polite like that.  
_

_"Just a second," Yuki replied._

_She could hear his weight lean heavily against the door. With a sigh, she asked, "Why aren't you at work? I thought the place would be falling apart without you."  
_

_"I was," he replied. "I was checking on you every three hours. You actually slept for a half day." There was a pause. "By the way, he's asking for you."_

_She waited for a laugh followed by 'Gotcha, silly, I was kidding!' but Marcus didn't say anything.  
_

_"We tried interrogating him," Marcus continued. "But he said he's not going to say anything until he sees you." Another pall of silence. "You don't have to do this. You don't need to go. We got him. He's not going to run away. I assure you."_

_"I'll meet you there," she said blankly._

_Marcus hesitated. "You sure about this?"_

_"We have a lot of things to talk about."_

* * *

"Kudo-san?"

My elbows were resting on my knees, the right one slightly bouncing with nerves. A hand was in my mouth absently gnawing off a thumbnail. I was lost in thought.

Through the haze in my head, I heard my given name called out in the waiting room of the police station, but it didn't register initially. No one ever calls me with my family name and I was just not used to being addressed in that way. Besides the fact, I was completely distracted because of the reason in which I was there in the first place, and it could very well be that I was still feeling residuals of the disorientation of few hours ago.

On top if it all, I was so cold, like…unreasonably cold. The weather had changed suddenly; dropping to around forty degrees and for some reason I couldn't seem to shake the chill from my bones. I shuddered and wrapped my arms around my chest for warmth.

"Kudo-san?" When she received no response, the woman peered at her clipboard and called my name out again, this time with the addition of my first name. "Yuki?"

"Oh, uh… yeah." When I was startled into awareness, the waiting room full of all sort of visitors stared at me like I was an imbecile who couldn't remember her own name. My face burned with stupidity while I quickly rose off my chair, pushing back strands of my hair as I often do out of nervous habit.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Follow me, please."

I followed her through the hallway, my hands shoved deep into my pockets to ward off the chill. It was funny how I had picked up his habits. The desire for comfort in an unfamiliar and nervous situations and my body responded like this. He would have smiled, pleased he was influential enough to cause this sort of reaction.

"Here we are!" She threw open the double doors with far too much enthusiasm. The spacious room we entered looked a lot like a basic cafeteria. Except for the walls and floors that all had the same dreary gray shade and the convicts in their bright orange jumpsuits, the only splash of color in the room.

"Your man is over there," she informed me, gesturing to a single door in the corner of the room, one of the more private spots. "Just wait for the detective who's responsible for your visit. He should be expected here presently. Please, can you wait?"

"I'm not going anywhere," I said.

* * *

**A/N:** Reviews motivate me to post the confrontation sooner, and quite frankly, I really do need motivation to get over my laziness~

If there was something unexpected/unnatural you found in Yuki's reaction, I'll be expecting critique.


	26. Frenzy

**I apologize for the ridiculously long wait. The response to this fic from you, my hot-assed readers, blows my mind. Thank you. I have a dark, twisted imagination and I cannot stop it from running wild.**

**I'd like to leave some room in this A/N to thank my beta, Petit L, ****who has always been my most diligent supporter/cheerleader/mentor, right from the start**. You are made of awesomeness, man. This chapter is dedicated to you.

******I don't plan to go on with this rambling because this chapter is freakishly long already, and I'm a bit insecure about it. Critique is mightily appreciated.**

******Two more songs ****that I thought would fit: Memories by Within Temptation and Cold by Crossfade.**

**********Enjoy.**

* * *

_**26. Frenzy**_

* * *

**Eight Years Ago**

_"Calm down, Akira. It's just a kid!" shouted the mother._

_"A kid who intruded our house from the balcony!" snapped back the father, turning to the little white-haired creature that stood expressionlessly in the middle of the living room, staring at him like a deer caught into headlights. "Who the hell are you?"_

_The small stranger looked at him blankly, eyes were fierce, not an ounce of disturbance in them._

_"I said who are you!"_

_The boy moved towards the mother. With each step, she took a step back. Her shaking legs backtracking. Her tear-filled eyes widening impossibly at the weird determination she found in the boy's emerald eyes.  
_

_Her husband frantically moved to sand in front of his wife in protection, bravely aiming his gun at the boy who suddenly stopped, eying the man's shaking hand which betrayed the courage his eyes tried to hold._

_"Are you sent here to kill us?" the father demanded loudly._

_The boy nodded timidly._

_The mother gasped, holding into her husband's shoulders, her eyes flickered in fright to the bedroom door behind the boy's body, who began to move again._

_"Step back!" the father warned. "I'm going to shoot you! Step back!"_

_"Akira, the kids are still in the room!" the mother reminded in panic._

_"Don't come any closer!" the father chided, holding the gun with both hands and aiming it at the little kid's head._

_"Akira, he's a kid! You're not going to shoot a kid!" the mother exclaimed._

_"I said step back!"_

_The trigger of the gun squeaked._

_"For the love of God, Akira, no!"_

_Akira fired._

_He breathed heavily, trying to compose himself. His wife hid her face behind his back, praying for the door of her daughter's room to remain closed._

_They both opened their eyes at the same time, expecting to face the horrible reality that they had just killed a kid._

_The boy's tiny fist was clenched in front of his face as he stared at the two grownups in fatigue. He opened his hand, not even tilting his face downward to look at __what was on his palm_; the bullet. His expression changed to a playful one, as he shot them one of those sweet smiles kids use when caught with their hand in the cookie jar.  


_The father dropped the gun and fell on his butt, __not quite able to look away from the boy who would be the last person he was going to see alive. The mother sobbed and without thinking, she rushed to the door where her children hid, but she couldn't reach the knob as she was forced fiercely on the floor by a push of the boy's hand._

___"No! God, please don't do this! God, help me!" The mother was hysterical. Despite the blurry vision, she had seen the boy's hand, and she knew she wouldn't leave this house alive. She was grateful that her children had managed to hide, but not for so long._

___The brother curled up on the floor, holding his sister tight to his chest as they listened to the crazed screams from the room they both took as a safe harbor. The brother squeezed his eyes shut and his hold tightened._

___"Sam, you're hurting me," his sister whined in a muffled voice. "What's going on? Why can't we go outside?" She sounded very scared._

___"It's okay, sweetie. Mom and Dad want us to stay here."_

___"Sam, why are you crying?" She touched his cheeks, wiping the tears that were coming out of his eyes._

___The brother got up and grabbed the knob of the door with trembling hands. He looked at his sister and said in a commanding voice, "Don't get out of this room, do you hear me? Whatever happens and no matter what, don't get out of here!"_

___She backtracked. "But I…"_

___"If you get out of here, then I'll never speak with you again! Ever! Do you hear me, Yuki? Stay right here!"  
_

___The brother burst out of the room, watching in horror as he let the fear and the panic consume him when he saw both his parents lying helplessly on the floor. His eyes laid on the boy who was clutching at his mother's neck while his other hand was ready to pierce her body with what appeared like cat-claws._

___The brother ran as fast as he could and gripped the boy's arm. "Hey! What the hell!" he yelled as he tried to pry the boy's fingers out of his __mother's_ neck which had started to get colorless. The brother was much bigger and taller than the nine years old boy, but his efforts were still futile.

___The brother was thrown backward several feet with force. He landed on his leg wrong and wailed in pain. He couldn't move it._

___"Sam!" The mother tried to crawl to him, but the boy kicked her back. Raising his claws, he sliced open the flesh of her chest. The mother screamed in agony as her husband helplessly watched. In absolute boredom, the boy moved to the father, not quite paying attention to the brother who was yelling in awe._

___The father was frantic. He no longer resembled the brave man he'd always been. Instead, he looked like a frightened animal being backed into a corner. An animal with no escape. He saw a last opportunity and tried to grab the gun, but the boy threw it to the other side of the room so he couldn't get to it, put the man into a choke hold, and killed him with cold blood.  
_

___"Stop it! No!" The brother's tears could not be counted. He tried with all his might to crawl to his mother. Finally, he found the strength to drag himself to her. Just as he reached her and looked into her eyes, her wound had got fatal. She had taken her son's hand into hers and given it a final squeeze. She died right there looking into her son's blue and tear-filled eyes, knowing that he was about to suffer the same fate._

___"Mom?" The brother shook her to get a reaction. All he could hear was the approaching steps of the boy. "Mom? Mom! No!" He threw his arms around her and buried his head in her neck. He was crying so hard, he couldn't catch a breath. He looked up at the boy who had just killed his mother with hurt and anger fueling him. "Dammit!" He mustered up the last of his strength and lunged at the boy, clutching at his tiny little shoulders as hard as he could._

___The boy shoved the brother off of him. As soon as the brother hit the floor, he felt the sharp pain stab through his chest. He went into instant shock. The only thing he could hear was his faint breathing. It echoed through his ears. He started coughing up blood. Everything was getting blurry. The brother saw a hallucination standing above him. It looked like the outline of a woman and a man looking down at him. He lifted his hand, feeling his body getting painfully cold.__ His_ hand dropped and everything went black.

* * *

I had never in my life been somewhere so gray. It was like when you adjust the color from 'vivid' to 'movie' on the TV, and all of a sudden the color just goes off somewhere to die, leaving behind some faded grayish mockery of a color in its place. It was depressing. I'd been in the police station for less than twenty minutes and I already felt sick.

My heart was pounding and my lungs were burning and a nervous sweat had broken out in all my most unglamorous places. I was dropped into another waiting room which had the temperature of a freaking sauna and its disturbance matched my nervousness level. The sensation settled in the back of my brain, burrowing deep and coating itself in the hundreds of other thoughts racing through my mind. It was there, like a mass of cells dividing and growing, becoming part of my neural networks and making itself at home. I shook my head, hoping to clear away the whirlwind of thoughts as I focused on my hands—and waited.

I suddenly heard my mother's voice inside my head, _A lady doesn't sweat, Yuki. A lady glows._

Yeah._  
_

_In that case, Mom, I'm glowing like a pig._

Anyway, I never claimed to be a lady.

I told myself I was 'glowing' because I wasn't having the enough confidence I needed.

I know that was not the reason, but that was what I told myself because despite everything, apparently I'm a needy, frightened little girl with a desperate need for other people's approval. At least that was what my psychiatrist/life-coach had led me to believe. And yes, I actually thank him for those pearls of insulting wisdom.

"Excuse me, Yuki-san?"

I looked up to see a beautiful, blond-haired girl holding out what looked suspiciously like a double-shot green-bean macchiato with a shot of mocha and extra cream.

"Oh, you look stressed," she said that with just the right amount of concern to prevent me from scolding her in the rudest way possible. "I'm Aimi. I'm an assistant here. Would you like me to get you something to drink?"

"Hey," I said not looking at her but eying the cardboard cup dubiously. "What are you drinking?"

"A double-shot green-bean macchiato with a shot of mocha and extra cream," she answered.

I gave her a nod, impressed. "That's exactly what I figured."

She chuckled soundlessly. "Are you here to see Killua-kun?"

Killua-_kun_? I stifled a frown. Something was off with the way she said his name.

"Do you know him?" I found myself asking.

"Not really, but I've met him before in the past."

_Huh?_

Before I could inquire what was that supposed to mean, Marcus popped in with the confirmation that it was time for me to enter the room. He made sure to ask me if I'd like to drink something too, but I refused. My stomach was still not ready to accept anything right now.

I shrugged off the conversation I had with this girl for the meantime, knowing that it wasn't important to deal with when I had better things to focus on. Things like facing the Zaoldyeck I had waited my whole life to meet.

I could almost see the look of the serious-derision on his face, and I was horrified to realize that before I even set a foot in that room, I would have the overwhelming urge to slap him. The last thing I needed was to give him ammunition. He was deadly enough without it.

_Stay cool,_ I hissed under my breath as I paused outside the door and tried to pull myself together. _For the love of God, and your tenuous grip on sanity, stay…cool._

I closed my eyes and inhaled a few deep breaths, desperately trying to calm myself. It was at this point I realized 'desperately trying to calm myself' pretty much meant 'work myself into a bigger frenzy' and I mentally slapped myself for being such an idiot. Then I started fantasizing about mentally slapping him. Then actually slapping him. Then throwing him on the ground and kicking his douche-baggery right out of him.

_Oh heck, stop that already._

I grinded my teeth in frustration.

So much for maintaining my professional composure.

"You ready?" Marcus asked softly, his cold hand on the small of my back.

"Definitely not sure," I said shakily. "Mind if I borrow your gun?" Marcus gave me a skeptical look. "It'll make me feel better," I explained. He sighed, but handed me the gun nonetheless.

"Thanks," I muttered. The weight of the weapon was comfortable in my hand despite the bad memories of my father that came along with it. I always hated guns because of him. I always refused to even get close to the drawer where he used to keep it in his office. And now I was requesting a gun. Things had changed a lot.

Marcus cracked the door and carefully pushed it open. Surprisingly, it didn't squeak or betray our presence. I strode into the room, flustered and furious, and I could feel Killua's eyes on me even before I saw him. I know I was probably scowling like a crazy-person but I was beyond giving a damn at this point.

I resisted scanning the room to look at him because, well…that was what I wanted to do, and one thing I'd learned with Killua was to push down my natural instincts, or at the very least, ignore them. That was probably how things got screwed-up between us sometimes in the past. Me thinking I could have something from him when, in fact, he offered me nothing.

Despite my efforts, I couldn't stop my eyes from skimming down to glance at him. Handcuffed, he was sitting on a chair, hands across his lap. His face was damaged, covered in cuts and bruises that had yet to fully form. He was pale, not as bad as me obviously, but quite a difference from his normal coloring, which was surely a result of his captivity.

His eyes were the same as I knew them. Mesmerizing. Intense. Damn, I'd forgotten. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks and I cursed my stupid blood vessels.

"Here. I brought her to you just as you requested," Marcus said coldly. "Happy?"

Killua kept his look fixed on me. "Very much. I'm just holding myself back from jumping out of joy," he replied with a straight face.

_Same old. Sickly sarcasm._

"I'll give you two some privacy," Marcus stated. He exchanged a final look with me, making sure I was holding it together. I thought a simple nod would do the work, but Marcus needed two before he stepped out of the room making sure to eye the gun in my hand as a warning for me not to be a reckless numskull.

I sighed, slowly turning to the boy I was left alone in the room with.

I cleared my throat repeating his surname back in my head along with the definition of his true identity, feeling something scratching at the nape of my neck. My skin was hot―sweaty. The air between us was suddenly filled with awkwardness and neither of us knew quite how to respond to the oddity of our current situation. He studied me, waiting to see what I would do.

I did nothing, but put down the metallic weapon over the table that was resting between the two of us, and sat on a chair across of him, wriggling my hands, pondering what to say and how to begin.

I tried to think of something to break the ice, but suddenly, I had zero topics of conversation in my head, which astounded me because when I was not with him, my head was full of questions burning for answers. Now he was here and obviously open to trying to explain himself, and I was blank. Wildly nervous.

I gazed at his fingers. His thumbs were slowly rubbing against each other, his hands tense and restless. I wouldn't look at him. I could feel his eyes on me, contrite and sincere; but if I looked then he'd crawl inside of me and never leave.

I looked at the table. Much safer. Boring and stained, but safe.

A few moments of quiet passed before he spoke gently again. The square-shaped room was very small, the noise of silence was high, but even through the increasing liquor haze of my mind I could hear his words with crystal clarity.

He leaned forward, closing the space between us.

"How have you been?"

_Wow. What a let__down._

A hard leaden weight settled on my chest. "Shut up," I said quietly, balling my hands into fists on my lap. "Do me a favor—" I looked up at him. "—and shut up."

Something flickered behind his eyes. It made my insides tingle.

"I'm really curious to know though," he admitted softly, and despite how derisive his words sounded to me, his voice wasn't sarcastic anymore.

"There's no need for you to know," I muttered with an edge of building anger.

"There's not?"

"Why do you care?" I blurted out. We locked eyes for one beat, but he didn't answer. "Didn't think so," I continued, my tone impossibly bitter.

He let out the first sigh for the night, and I could tell he was frustrated.

_Good. Join the club._

"Is that really what you think?" he asked me then. "That I don't care?"

I thought about it a second before responding, "Yes, that's what I really think. I don't think you're capable of caring. All you know how to do is manipulate. It's not the same."

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "It's a shame you have this impression."

I almost reacted by turning to meet his eyes but kept my focus on my hands when I spoke, "I need answers."

"Ask me whatever you want. I promise I'll be honest." His voice velvet and smooth, like running silk over all my senses.

"You could have done that from the beginning."

"I couldn't," he retorted immediately. "It wasn't an easy choice for me to just speak freely about who I am—uh, _used to_ be, in front of you. Not only because of the shame, no. Also because I knew that I'd miss my chance in… um, getting to know you better. And I can assure you such distress to you was not my intention."

"Getting to know me," I echoed like a confused parrot, realizing I was losing any control I might have had over the situation. Which was turning out to be not very much. "Why did it matter so much?"

"Because you always interested me," he conceded.

My eyelids fluttered and I found myself smiling to myself.

"You don't believe me, do you?" he asked monotonously but it sounded more like a statement than a question.

I sighed heavily. "I can't tell when you're telling the truth anymore."

"There's no reason for me to lie to you now after this point. Not that I ever did that before."

My chest engulfed in warmth. "You didn't?"

"No," he confirmed.

_So what we had, it all meant something_, I wanted to blurt out. But I kept that to myself, because even if he confirmed that one too, I doubted that it would change a thing. Nonetheless, I couldn't shut down the voice of the little girl inside of me, who constantly needed the reassurance to carry on, and I couldn't keep my eyes from reflecting the confusion and the helplessness I was feeling because of my unfortunate racing mind.

Since his one-word answer, he'd turned silent and tense, palms rubbing together, shoulders hunched. I guess he was thinking about what he was going to say next. That made two of us.

Over the years I'd thought a lot about what I would do if this day ever arrived. Now that it was here, I didn't feel any of the gloating vindication I thought I would. I felt nervous. For both of us.

We just sat there, so much history and memories hanging between us. So much heartache and venom and crossed-purposes, and I was under no illusions that our chat tonight was going to erase the past or rewrite our present.

He grunted and I could see the hard set of his jaw, the way his Adam's apple seemed to be choking him. For all his strength and bravado, his crippling insecurity was lurking just beneath the surface.

"When I rehearsed this conversation in my mind, I rehearsed it _a lot_," he admitted, "I was a whole lot smoother. There was very little silence involved."

_Over-rehearsing is just as bad as under-rehearsing,_ I wanted to reply. It was strangely comforting, knowing that his current condition matched mine exactly.

"How is it that after all this time you still affect me like this?"

I blinked. "Like what?"

"Nervous and calm at the same time. Crazy and serene. Feral and civilized."

His condition _perfectly_ matched mine.

"If it's not too late, can I speak my mind?" he asked.

"Go ahead."

"Look, I know that telling you this now won't change a damned thing but I need you to know." He awkwardly shifted his eyes across the room. "This is the first time I get to be in this place, in this situation. I've never experienced this before," he started, his voice low and smooth. "There's always been this part in me. I don't know if it's in my heart, my soul or somewhere else. That part has always been unknown to me, undiscovered. And you found it. For the first time, you made me realize it. You made me feel who I am, and where I am. I never knew that part even exist, I never knew that I'd be able to just… have it. I had no idea." He breathed in, shaking his head. "And I don't know if you can understand what I'm saying."

I leaped up from my seat and paced the room.

I could understand. But I chose not to. I wanted him to stop talking, to stop explaining himself in a way that might make me retreat. I needed him to stop messing with my thoughts, and with the determination I was holding into, but my curiosity tingled to hear, begging me not to say anything until he was finished.

"You were someone to me. When you moved, I felt like something inside of me is moving along with you. Someone I felt like I should follow, because that part ordered me to. I knew I should protect you, in every way possible. I knew that I should always be strong to do that." He paused, slowly rubbing his palms together, seemingly lost in thought. Like he was reliving a tender emotion and revising the memory of it.

I knew I was standing like a pillar of stone, my heart battling with my mind, constantly and with no reprieve. I knew that no matter what he said, he wouldn't be able to make yesterday's pain seem tolerable or manageable. Not so easily.

If there was a second chance for me to give at that point, it would be one to talk. I owed him this.

He looked at me, calmly and expectantly. I had no intention to speak yet, having a feeling that he still had something more to say.

"Sometimes… I imagined you as a fragile glass doll, something I needed to be careful around, that might be shattered to pieces with one wrong touch, probably because that was the only memory I had for you in my mind. A fragile child. I couldn't bring myself to break you."

"But you did break me," I eventually said, my eyes latched onto him. "You broke me beyond repair. It would have been much easier if we never met, if none of this ever happened. You were so selfish because you let it go this far. You made the choice hard. If I knew the truth from the beginning, I wouldn't have made so many mistakes."

His eyes narrowed. "…mistakes?"

"Yes, mistakes. I desired something thinking it was so beautiful, yet it turned out to be more twisted that I'd thought. But even though, I dared to dream." I scoffed at the thought, smiling bitterly. "That was my first mistake. Deep inside, I saw this end badly. But even knowing things were futile, I kept a burning fire of hope in the little place of my thoughts. You made me so happy, and I'll never really know why. But you did. You, and you alone. I thought this happiness would last and never fade. And that was my second mistake."

He looked away, avoiding my stare.

"And now I self-destructed into a thousand irreparable shards of who I used to be," I continued softly, my hands uncontrollably shaking. "And nothing can put me back together."

He finally met my eyes with a stark, trapped gaze; no expression upon his face at all. "What's the third mistake?" he asked in curiosity, but I already knew that he already knew the answer.

"It doesn't matter now."

"Yes it does. Why can't you say it?"

"Because there's no point in stating the obvious," I answered.

"No, because you don't believe it was a mistake."

Something clutched at my heart hearing that. And I wasn't sure if it was because of the pure certainty in his voice or because of the anger that followed me when I considered the truth of the simple statement.

"Not true," I said anyway. "I believe it was my ultimate mistake, and I've never been so ashamed of anything my entire life."

His eyes widened slightly, a hint of pain could be seen underneath the façade of his normally blank expression. "Is this all because of my identity or because I deceived you?"

"Mainly because of your identity. The two options are actually related. You deceived me because that's who you are, that's what you learned how to do. You manip—"

"Do _not_ say manipulate!" he cut in loudly, and I winced, despite myself. The particular word seemed to have a powerful impact on him. "I did not manipulate you. And no, that's not who I am. I'm not a normal Zaoldyeck. If you're claiming to have such an intact memory, then put some effort in remembering the night when we met in the streets, few weeks ago. I'm telling you, none of my family members would care to notice a girl in need for desperate help. A normal Zaoldyeck wouldn't give a damn."

"I hardly was desperate to—"

"Get the point, Yuki," he interrupted strictly.

"You want me to count on that one night," I replied angrily. "Alright, let me ask you a question."

His response was quick. "Fine."

I reached for the metallic chair again and dropped heavily onto it, leaning forward. He maintained an expressionless countenance as he regarded my movements.

"That night. Eight years ago," I started tardily. "Let's assume that I got outside my room a few minutes earlier and saw what you were doing to my family and attempted to stop you and tried as hard as I could to get in your way. Would you hesitate in killing me?"

He arched an eyebrow; the question obviously took him by surprise.

"Tell me. Wouldn't you kill me, as brutally and hideously as you possibly could within a matter of seconds?"

"This is ridiculous," he muttered.

"Alright, then your answer should be simple and quick."

He narrowed his eyes in irritation.

"What? It's either yes or no," I challenged. "Just choose one and be honest."

I saw one of his hands ball into a fist, his eyes fierce and harsh.

"Would you do it or not?" I raised my voice, adding more pressure. "Answer me! Would you ki—"

"I don't know!" he yelled, anger oozing from him. "I don't know," he repeated with a sigh.

"Exactly."

I got off the chair once again and went back to my pacing process.

He frowned, gritting his teeth like he was biting down on them. "This is not fair," he interjected hoarsely. "You can't count on that either. I was nine, for God's sake. My choices were not exactly wise and fool-proof."

"You and I both know that the first ten years of one's life can have more impact than everything that happened in the next thirty. Childhood experiences have impact and they have lasting effects. They are the most influential."

"But this is a relative thing, not absolute."

"It's a psychology fact," I bickered.

"Psychology isn't a professional science; it's not stable enough, and it's liable to be supplanted by more advanced theories in the same domain. All the time. So, don't rely on it."

I glared at him.

His ability to make me violently angry within thirty seconds was absolutely remarkable.

"Why are you scowling at me?" he asked, frowning.

I composed my face. "Leave me alone. I think you're terrible."

"Because I always prove you wrong?"

"Yes, that's one of many reasons. Would you like a list?"

"Do you know why we're always arguing like two cats tied by their tail, Yuki? It's the simple fact that you just can't accept not having the last word, even if it causes massive bloodshed and chaos."

"Freaking know-it-all," I muttered under my breath.

"But once again, I am right."

"You really do have an attitude problem!" I snapped.

"I don't have an attitude problem._ You_ have a perception problem."

_Prick._

"I can't believe I agreed on doing this." I shook my head, my hands squeezing my waist. "I came in here to have a normal conversation with you, expecting you to be all grown up, but damn, I was one hell of an idiot!"

"Calm down and stop yelling like a noob," he replied sternly, gesturing at the chair for me. "Sit down, if a normal conversation is what you wish for us to have." He waited with his hand still indicated at the chair. I stalled for a minute, reviving back my composure by taking long deep breaths. "Sit down," he demanded again and I finally compelled.

"Do you still want to hear about my past?" It astonished me just how his personality seemed to change all of a sudden and swallow the whole place up. "Fine."

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. I looked at his face, so serious, so focused.

"Let me take you back to when I was younger, when I had the mind and the naïvety of that nine years old kid. I was taught not to expect people in this life to be saints and heroes, that there should be a room for balance where evil reigned and that the world craves, perhaps even_ demands_, balance. Give and take. Plant and harvest. Yin and yang. I spent the first twelfth years of my life questioning my family's reasoning, trying to accept the fact that it was destined for me to reside with the evil and that having the absolute power of being the heir would probably be a good thing so—"

"Hold on." I blinked in confusion, trying to make sense of what I was hearing. "You are the heir? I didn't know you are the eldest son."

He seemed annoyed. "I _was_ the heir. And no, I'm not the eldest son. It doesn't matter now. Would you like to hear the rest without interrupting me?"

I couldn't help rolling my eyes as I crossed my arms and went back to my silent mode.

"Sometimes—No, _most_ of the times, I didn't really believe in my own excuses or in my family's, I told myself that this kind of assassination was really not that sinful at all, that this was so I could purge the evil I consumed all. That killing the murderers and rapists and criminals and peculators must surely be my gift to society, so what could be so wrong? Sometimes, when I felt especially cocky, I'd tell myself that this was what society _owed_ me, that this was all part of nature's balance. Denial can be such a powerful emotion."

He stared at me, expecting a certain reaction to his words. When he found none, he kept going.

"I had my nights of _take_, my warped nights during which we chose to feast on society's refuse. Even though, I did not find the idea highly satisfying because what I wanted was _not_ the foulness of criminals or to let my family interfere with my life choices, so I decided to be different. I can't say that in one night I became more human than monster. I doubted that, but it was a nice thought. But no matter what, my sins followed me everywhere I went."

"So when you told me that you left your family at the age of twelve, you were being honest?"

He closed his eyes for a brief moment. "You should know that I never lied to you, and it's your choice to believe that or not."

"Why would I?" I countered harshly. "I see your vague attempt to justify your actions by claiming that you used to _feast_ on society's refuse without mentioning its goodness. As if you never killed innocent people before."

"No, but I can't write down the name of every innocent life I'd ever taken because they belonged to the people I never should have touched, the people who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and whose bodies were rarely ever found, because I'd thrown them in lakes and rivers and oceans or concealed them deep in the ground. I never considered them as targets; they were more like obstacles."

My face slowly lost all expression. "That's sick."

"Don't worry, I had my share of guilt. The past five years of an almost eerie solitude had passed both sluggishly and swiftly and the guilt continued to eat away at my gut like a squirming tapeworm, no matter how much I endeavored to ignore it. I had chosen not to count my victims over the years, as if not knowing the depth of my own evil would somehow absolve me of my sins." He looked at me with pure kindness in his eyes. "I'm not as bad as you think I am."

"Whatever," I murmured.

He rubbed his hands over his face and groaned in irritation. "What?" he asked, finally losing his cool. "I don't know what you expect me to say, Yuki. It appears to me that honesty is not what you're looking for."

"How do you expect me to react while hearing about how horribly disgusting your past was?"

I flinched at his glare.

"If you have never experienced the danger of battle, the loneliness of imprisonment, the agony of torture, or the pangs of starvation, then you don't get to judge me!" His voice was terrifying; every syllable was extended to allow the seriousness of his words to penetrate. "You know I never planned to hurt you. I wasn't even planning on being your friend anyway!"

I inhaled and exhaled quickly, trying to not completely lose my temper. "Well thank God! Maybe I'll be able to sleep well tonight after all. I was starting to get worried."

"God, you're so…" He trailed off and his shoulders were tense.

I was so confused about him and what he was trying to say_ and_ why I actually cared so much.

"What?" I demanded, annoyed because he wouldn't look at me. "I'm so what? Annoying? Irritating? Tell me what you were going to say!"

He seemed really drained when he looked at me. "Hypocrite."

A chill extended up and down my body, as if ice-cold water was poured over me and down my spine. "I…what?"

"Oh I think you heard me," he said. I frowned, somewhat bewildered. "Just last night you told me that you didn't care that I killed people before. Your behavior was completely understanding and…different. And now? It's all prickly impatience and sickening provocation. I don't get you. At all."

"Well, that's me, Killua!" I shouted, and spread his arms wide. "What, did you think I'm some kind of a small town girl? I'm not! I have tons of issues. Tons of insecurities. You're fooled to think that you might want to get to know me. Because this"—I gestured at myself—"is not worth any of your efforts. I am impatient and provocative and vain. I worked really hard to be a good person, but I'm not. I can't be. Don't expect me to try now—_here, _with you."

"You're not a bad person," he said quietly.

"Yes, I am. You don't know me. Last night you saw a different picture of me. Last night _I_ had a different picture for you in my mind, but I didn't know it was just a mirage of what you're truly are."

I heard him sigh like a child who was forced to do something he'd rather not. "_What_ I truly am? Fine, _what_ do you think I am?"

"A murderer," I accused.

"No, that's a common misconception. An assassin is the right word, not a murderer."

"You're kidding right? There's a difference between the assassin and the murderer in your world?"

"Yes, it's a very tricky subject you touch on. Fortunately, I am well versed in it, and that's why I should be well able to answer any questions you may have."

"If you're so well versed, that must mean you're a murderer _and_ an assassin," I returned.

He smiled mysteriously. "Assassin? I'm telling, I was, once. I would have had to rebuke you on calling me a murderer, but I have done my fair share of murdering so."

I could feel my anxiety waning. "Well, what's the difference?"

"Let's see. An assassin does not have any malice in mind for the mark. There is no grudge held against them; they are nothing more than a goal, and so malice is not needed. There is no personal investment in the deed, while murder is _very_ personal in nature. Murder is something done in retribution, anger, fear, lust, possessiveness, even love perhaps." He smiled. "Personal things, yes? Like, if you killed me now, you would become a murderer."

_Bastard._

"My father was beheaded. My mother's heart was ripped out of her chest. You're saying that you had no personal matter when you did that? It appears to me that you enjoyed mutilating your victims as if you had something against them. You could have just killed them, stopped their hearts."

"Your tiny brain really doesn't grasp the concept does it? While a common murderer sees killing as a chore to get someone out of the way, I, as a Zaoldyeck, was taught to see it is as art. Some artists express themselves on a canvas or with words. I was taught to make the human body my canvas and unfortunately the result was death. It was the price my victims paid. Art isn't cheap."

"That's bull crap. I don't see how a person like you could like art. I'm sure you got people fooled. Everyone thinks your normal, but it's all for a show. You're like a serial killer."

"Stop giving me labels that I certainly do not deserve. I am not a serial killer," he replied.

The air was humming with tension. It settled in my gut like a nest of angry wasps.

"Well, you've got a pattern, you go after specific victims, you were often physically abused by your family. You wish for more?"

"Dammit okay. Technically, I was a serial killer."

"Technically?" I grunted, straightening in my seat.

"According to the points you've mentioned, it's probable that it might have been suitable for everyone to call me a serial killer, but I'm nothing like that. I was not a sociopath who killed for the sake of killing. I've come to know every single thing about every victim I dealt with. The Zaoldyecks kill to keep the business going, and believe it or not, they pick their victims very carefully. It is never an easy decision."

My eyebrows instinctively rose and suspision was written all over my face. "What's your point of all of this?"

"Your parents were not innocent people." There was a flash of defiance in his eyes. "Your father was responsible for burning an orphanage for kids but his company managed to blame it on someone else. It was accidental, I suppose, but your father always believed his conscience was clear. As for your mother, she killed one hundred and forty-eight person, and if she wasn't killed that day, her next target was going to be killed in the following night. Tell me, she had come up with a random excuse for not attending your ballet show, am I right?"

_Totally right._

Damn I hated when that happened.

Sort of shocking? Not really. My father used to pull his shot gun out at the first sign of provocation even when he was walking down the streets. My mother was injured in four ribs, had a broken eye socket, and she was partially deaf most of the time so we always had to raise our voices for her to hear us. I now understand that all of that was due to her secretive missions. Yes I admit it, my parents were jerks.

I stared at the oolitic wall. My silence was a sign of agreement.

"Thought so. See, people need killing."

A cynical laugh escaped from me. "Yeah, just like Sam."

He just looked down, a solemn look on his face. "I was just following orders."

"And what orders would those be! To kill innocent boys!"

"The orders were to stop anyone who tried to hamper me, anyone who tried to threaten me." He still didn't look at me, already knowing the look on my face.

"He did nothing!" I yelled.

"He stood in my way. I was left with no choice."

"He was protecting his parents!" Anger gradually mixed with bitter sorrow. Hatred for this person mixed with the love for my brother.

"I was ordered to eliminate anyone who attempted to do me harm."

I growled at this. "We were all what each other had! He wasn't supposed to die! He was trying to keep us safe! To keep _me _safe! He was trying to keep his little sister safe!"

"He should have been smarter about his decision, but he wasn't. His action was just as foolish as he was."

I stopped for a moment, trembling.

_Okay, now I'm in Hell. Finally happened._

I broke loose from my control's hold.

I lunged. My palm rose up to slap him. It took him a split second to determine what I was about to do. In an immensely speedy motion, the handcuffs were crumpled and dropped at the floor. His hand vehemently stopped mine and squeezed my wrist. He was on his feet now. My vision was filled with anger, but it didn't prevent me from seeing the shocked expression on his face. The look of absolute betrayal.

"What, you think you can slap me and get away with it?"

My heart sank into a sea of drunken, melodramatic hatred. "Believe me, this is just the start."

A single lustrous finger lifted my chin to bring my face closer to his. A rush of air burst into my lungs, loud and unexpected. He tensed up, his body slumping into the familiar form of the jackass I knew so well.

"Stop," I ordered, but he was gripping me like a vice and stilling my movement. "Your shameless courage is so strong… so gut-wrenchingly enticing, that you do _not_ want to be doing _anything_ at the moment that challenges my control."

"So that's it?" he sneered. "It'll start with a slap? Well it seems like you can't get that one."

My stomach rolled and turned.

"We'll see about that," I said cheerily, pushing him off of me, loosening his hands in the process, but that only motivated his aggression as he forced me to face him, and I backtracked quickly, uncomfortable by the closeness.

He drew in a huge breath and exhaled slowly. "You have no idea what a dangerous game you're playing here, Yuki. If you did, you wouldn't be so blasé about doing this. Did you even consider the consequences of trying to slap a Zaoldyeck? Did you think for one second that he may not be the type of person you should provoke… or be alone with?"

"Let go," I warned, trying to ignore the vicious shudder of anger that blazed everywhere his body contacted mine, desperately wanting him to stay away. All the air in the narrow, dark room was getting as thick as cotton wool and as rough as sandpaper. I felt claustrophobic, but I wouldn't let him see.

No weakness.

He taught me that.

"Did you even consider the possibility that I _might_ be a bad person, Yuki? That I've done vicious, heinous things in my life? That I've destroyed more lives that I can bear to recall? Did none of those things cross your mind before you stumbled into this room to hurt me?"

Suddenly, my body started to vibrate. It was a huge gamble – pitting my carefully cultivated self-control against the inexorable pull of my vengeance. Still, if it paid off it may offer some slight relief for my current torment.

"I've never hated someone in my life as much as I hated you." A rush of venom filled my words, wincing against the painful fire that accompanied it.

"I don't believe that," he quickly shot back. "A pure heart like yours is not capable of hating."

_Such an unrealistic optimist._

"You don't know anything," I hissed and exploded into action, opening up my senses as my aura sprinted forward, carrying itself around my body, begging me to let it dominate. He was always fast. He wanted speed.

_I can deal with speed._

Before he'd registered I'd moved, I firmly gripped his shoulders as I lifted him slightly off his scrambling feet and in a flash, plunged him at the wall. His back smacked against the stony surface. He stared at me, not quite believing what he'd just witnessed.

"Showing your true colors now aren't you?" he challenged, his hand reached to rub his shoulder; however, there was a tiny smile forming his mouth.

"What's so funny?"

"I'm surprised so much rage could fit into such a tiny package." He gestured at me. "I don't think I want that pent up aggression directed at me again."

Someone knocked on the door, but it remained closed. "Is everything alright? Yuki? Should we interfere?"

"Everything's fine, Marcus," I called out, my eyes still on Killua as he moved to sit down again, resting his elbow on the table.

"What's the deal between you and him?" he demanded. I frowned in return, not quite following him. "That Marcus guy," he explained. "Did you two use to date?"

I was caught off guard, unprepared for the sudden question.

"What?"

He tapped his foot impatiently. "What do you mean 'what'? Surely the question is simple enough. Did you date him?"

"I'm asking for the sake of conversation," he noted, being infuriatingly insistent. "And you're obligated to be honest."

That succeeded in growing my anger to a serious point.

"It's none of your business!"

He leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I believe you came in here to talk. So, in order for this conversation to be called a conversation, you are supposed to answer my questions because I've answered yours. I can still call this visit to an end and refuse to meet you again, but you want us to share, remember?"

"You are such a jerk!"

"And you're being evasive. Answer the question," he retorted.

"Again, why do you care?"

He leaned back and looked away. "I don't. I'm just curious."

"Why would you even think we dated in the first place?"

_Dammit, why am I arguing with him on this?_

"All of the nonsense, his secret smiles, the way he overprotects you, his random touches," he counted on his fingers, cocking his head to one side. "Unless he's a very possessive friend, and that's just disgusting."

"Shut the hell up!" I huffed.

"Just answer the question."

"No!"

"No you didn't date him, or no you won't answer the question?"

"Both."

"Well, that's impossible. If it's no to the first one you're automatically saying yes to the second."

"Stop talking!" I exclaimed.

"So is your answer to my original question is 'no' or not?"

"No, my answer isn't no!"

"No?"

"No!"

_Crap, now I'm confused as to what exactly I'm saying 'no' to._

By now my entire head turned bright crimson and I could feel the blush leeching down onto my neck like a weed. He was glaring at me and I was glaring back, and I almost wanted to laugh about his assumption that I could be 'dating' anyone, let alone someone so brotherly-looking as Marcus.

I opened my mouth to say something hurtful, but the look in eyes stopped me. I didn't know why. It was like I could see something fragile in there. Amidst all the hard edges and stony stares, there was something immensely breakable, and I couldn't do it.

"Just tell me," he ordered softly.

"I never dated him," I admitted grudgingly.

"Good," he muttered. "I don't like the way he looks at you."

Flashes of my uncle saying almost exactly the same thing about every boy who bothered to look sideways at me jolted through my brain, and suddenly, my new-found freedom didn't seem so free anymore. Here was another person trying to tell me what to do, like I was too deficient to actually make a decision on my own.

"Hey, you do _not_ get to ignore telling me the truth that you killed my family and then start chatting about my personal life like nothing happened."

"I didn't ignore telling you truth, I just hid it from you," he objected.

"Yes you did," I immediately snapped back. "And you ignored my right to know!"

"No, ignoring your right for the truth would be like disregarding your presence. I noticed you the entire time. I've just chosen not to speak to you about this matter."

I placed my hands on my waist, beginning to feel exasperated. "Is that better or worse than ignoring me completely?"

"Slightly better," he told me.

I laughed. "Well, thank God! I won't take offense then!"

"Good for you."

"I was being sarcastic!"

In his eyes there was a faraway look. "Someone once told me that sarcasm is the lowest form of humor."

I squinted at him. "Look who's talking! You seriously think you're being funny right now, don't you?"

"Yeah, a little."

"Well, you're not." I rubbed my temples. "I'm dangerously under-medicated. Don't mess with me."

"Oh, so you are not always this grumpy and you are not PMSing?" he asked without humor.

"What? You did _not_ just ask me…I'm, _what_? PMS? You are so…God! Shut up!" I turned and started pacing back and forth, and my PMS was making me crazy-angry and weepy all at the same time. I paused. "Why are you staring at me?" I demanded, and my irritation was creeping up my neck like a hot rash.

"I'm not staring at you. I have nowhere else to look."

_Holy Jesus, give me strength._

"Goddammit, do you find it necessary to contradict everything I say?"

"I'm not contradicting you."

"Yes, you are!"

"No I'm not."

"You just did it again!"

"Not at all. I'm disagreeing with you."

I grunted in frustration and faced him, and more than anything I wanted to smack the amused smirk he was wearing off his stupid face. And then I got even angrier because before we met, I was trying to be an extremely even-tempered and non-violent person.

"Is it true that devils end up like you?" I asked anxiously.

He nibbled on his lip which was very uncharacteristic of him which made me even more wary. "The world's thrown into chaos, earthquakes, floods, and you worry about that?" he replied.

I couldn't help it. I freaking giggled.

"And you're the one who worries about the humanity!"

He smiled, biting his lip. "Well I'm sorry my existence in the past was not very noble and sublime."

"Spare me this crap and don't start telling me that you've changed. A Zaoldyeck doesn't change."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Is that a motto?"

I frowned back. "It's a fact."

"The facts, although interesting, are usually irrelevant. Regardless, that's your opinion, but it's not a _fact_," he stated gently. "An individual's opinion is _always_ right. To them, of course. Even if they're the only one who thinks that way."

He was making no sense.

"So, if I look at the sky and have the opinion that the clouds are pink, am I right?" he inquired. "Yes. Because it's an _opinion_ not a _fact_, and maybe to you, the clouds _are_ pink because I'm pretty sure you're insane. Your opinion doesn't need to be true for anyone else in the world, but it does have to be true for _you_. So now you're saying that I can't be changed, but that's not a fact."

I stood there, feeling that I lost my will to argue.

"And that's the part where you should appear impressed by my dazzling wit," he added.

"No, really. I'm simply fascinated. Do go on, please. This is my huge weaving impression."

He frowned. "Why do you always have to make things so damn difficult?"

"I make things difficult?" I sputtered. "God, you're the King of Difficult, ruling with merciless authority from your throne of 'screwing-up with people's minds is fun'! You have no idea how much you've screwed things up for me and you dare making fun of the whole thing!"

He looked at me with incredulity. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? All I'm doing right now is try to be nice to you in the face of your blatant rudeness and severe emotional retardedness. How the hell has that screwed things up for you? Man, you're even more stubborn than Gon!"

I felt my body lean from the dizziness Marcus' medications had created, and I supported myself by clutching at the table. I cringed slightly and I realized that I could smell Killua's scent nearby as he approached me. My stomach churned at the thought, and my mind raced, desperate to find some solution to the unacceptable situation I found myself in.

I came up with nothing.

"Are you all right?" he murmured. "You look like you're going to vomit. It's been a while since I've made someone physically ill. Good to know I haven't lost my touch."

He was trying to make me laugh or get me angry. I could tell from the way he smirked and waited for my comeback, but I stayed silent and kept breathing because I felt like my stomach was trying to crawl up my windpipe and strangle me.

"Yuki?" he called, frowning now, his voice all liquid comfort and unspoken affection. "Seriously, are you okay? Should I call someone?" He rushed to the door, but I stopped him with a strong grip at his forearm.

"No," I wheezed. His eyes were soft and concerned. Too soft. Too concerned. "Stop looking at me like that," I whispered, my voice pleading but full with a trace of my earlier fury. "You can't. Stop."

His expression softened even more and I got even angrier because, as usual, he refused to do what the hell I told him to.

"Yuki," he said quietly. "I think you should sit down." His hands reached out and touched my waist.

"No!" I snapped and pushed his hands away. "You can't just do that! You can't look at me like you care…finally and just touch me. And don't call me Yuki. You don't get to call me with my name! Touch me again and I'll seriously rip your hands off!"

"I'm…I didn't mean to upset you," he said like it was perfectly normal for those words to leave his mouth. "I won't touch you like that again."

I pushed him away, slightly losing my balance in the process. I tripped on my own feet, falling limply at his body. His hands remained by his side and didn't caught me. He didn't touch me at all, just as I'd requested or more like ordered him to do. He only looked down at me as I quickly lifted my forehead from where it rested against his chest.

My cheeks filled with color when he bit his lip and drilled his eyes into mine expectantly.

The feeling that I was instinctively letting him in again terrified me. Made me ache in all the gray, dark places in my body that I'd wrapped up and shut down. He wanted me to risk the sweet numbness I'd worked so hard to achieve over the past few hours. Wanted me to dismantle my walls of self-preservation.

I pushed him away again.

"You…you messed up. You messed _me_ up. And now you're being all honest, and caring, and whatever, but…I can't process you like that anymore," I said, lowering my head to hide my face.

"I understand," he told me.

"Stop it!"

He looked confused.

"Stop what?"

"Stop being so damn nice and understanding! You're a Zaoldyeck! You're a bastard! An asshole! Be that!"

"That's not who I am anymore," he simply said.

"Saying that doesn't make it right! I don't know that it will _ever_ be right! That _I_ _will_ ever be right…with you." I sighed, bringing my hair up into a ponytail and then letting it fall. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest and I really wanted him to leave. Leave this room or leave this entire life. Didn't matter.

"Then let me try to make things right." His face was so sincere. "Let me prove to you that I've changed."

"You want to start again?" I asked, and I knew my face was stormy. "Oh, sure. No problem. Let's start again. What a totally awesome idea. Why didn't I think of that?"

He swore softly and hissed, "It doesn't have to be like this." He cupped his scarred face between his hands and started pacing back and forth in the room.

"Then what should it be like? Huh?" I moved forward and he moved back slightly, and now it was him with his back against the wall. Nowhere to go. "Share your goddamn wisdom. Tell me what it should be like."

I watched his jaw tighten. He was mad.

Good.

_I can deal with mad._

He breathed a deep sigh. "I've been talking like a hick ever since you came in here. Did _nothing_ from what I said sink in through that obstinately thick skull of yours?"

"I heard what you said," I spat back. "I just didn't believe any of it. Seriously, there's only so many times I can swallow bullshit before I begin to despise the taste. What's the phrase? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice—"

He laughed and it was a hollow, derisive sound.

"So there's really nothing I can do to convince you I've changed, is there?"

"You mean apart from _actually_ changing?" I muttered, backtracking away from him. "You threatened to kill everyone in this place and two minutes ago you threatened to hurt me for trying to slap you. Wow, I didn't know you could contradict_ your_self as well!"

"But I have changed."

"I don't see it."

"That's because you refuse to. You won't listen and you won't see," he replied and suddenly he was standing in front of me again. "Everything I said was true. I would not be doing this if it wasn't. I wasn't lying and that's what scares you."

I could smell him – so familiar and musky and full of memories I didn't want.

I had so much to say on that matter that the anger inside me surrounded my words. I tried to speak, but I choked on the words. Hot and thick in my throat.

"Do you think_ ‒ honestly_ think, that we stand a chance? Anymore? After all what happened, do you think things will easily go back to the way it was? That we can put this behind us and move on?" I was challenging, incredulous. And hurt. "We can't. You know it. I know it. I am here to hate you. It's meant to be. Stop fighting the inevitable. The inevitable always wins."

My voice was small but simmering. Anger flooded me.

"When did you become this heartless?" he asked.

"About the same time I found out I knew nothing about you!"

"You _do_ know me," he disagreed calmly. "You know the things that are important. The things I've never told anyone else."

"Bullshit! I _never_ knew you. I knew the person you were pretending to be, and man, let me tell you, you're one hell of an actor because you had me _completely_ fooled."

I could tell from the way he looked at me that my words felt like a slap.

I'd rather I slapped him.

"I never acted with you," he said, denying the pain that wanted to betray his features. "Ever."

He made a small scoffing noise and I heard him continue.

"You always talk about fate. That we don't choose which path we take. Well that's crap. We do choose, and you're choosing wrong. You're choosing to give up on everything we had. I know how you feel. I know it like I know the sky's blue and the world's round, and that if you do this you'll wake up in five years and wonder what the hell you've done, because people search their whole lives to find what we've got and you'd rather throw it all away. Don't you see that?"

He sighed and heavy regret weighed his words.

"No, I don't. I was just another mission to you. Something you used to kick the burden of guilt off of your shoulders."

"Something I_ used_?" His face turned to crimson and the veins on his bruised neck stood out in bold fury.

"Yes, something you thought you could fix. You can't. It's better like this."

"Better for who? You?" he spat, his voice showing a small fraction of the bitterness he was feeling. "Or me? Because I don't recall asking you to make decisions about my well-being! And you were _never_ a mission to me."

My anger was filling the air, making it thick and hard to breathe.

I headed towards the door. "I have to go," I whispered to my myself, my voice was dull, lifeless.

"And now you're running away."

"No!" I screamed. "I'm going to work on getting you out of here, you presumptuous asshole!"

His returning look was ice-cold, as if what I said did not matter.

Then his question stopped me.

"Do you truly hate me?"

I just shook my head. "God."

"I want to hear you say it."

His eyes were deadly-serious. Seeing them made this all too real. Too relevant.

"Say it," he pressed.

I swallowed and set my jaw – hard and determined.

"I hate you."

"Say it again."

I tried to keep my eyes on him, but I couldn't. I looked away. Looking at those eyes made me hate him less and he didn't deserve it.

"I hate you," I repeated.

"Again," he ordered and I could hear how uneven my breathing was.

"I… " My voice broke and my heart shrank at the sound, feeling more irritated than ever. "…hate you."

"Do you believe it yet?"

He looked at me, his eyes stormy and knowing. That one-word answer meant so many things. The moment hang between us and I remained quiet, confused and unsure of everything.

"Look," he started again, more patiently, "I get that you may never forgive me for what I did. I understand. But that doesn't mean I'm willing to give up without a fight, and if I end up dying friendless and alone, at least I'm going to do it knowing I moved heaven and earth to make things right with you."

He came very close to me, as close as possible without actually touching me.

"That's it! I know what I want." His voice was gradually getting louder. The rhythm of our anger was soothing. Familiar. "But what do you want? Huh? You want me to apologize? Because I will! If it'll help, I'll do it until I lose my fucking voice. Just tell me! Talk to me! What do you want from me?"

"I want you _dead_! Dead!" I yelled, relieved from the release. "Don't you get it? I can't want anything else!"

"You can't, or you don't _want_ to want anything else?"

_Both._

"I _can't_," I lied as calmly as I could. Internally, my blood was close to boiling.

I ran my fingers through my hair as my mind raced with possible outcomes. None of them satisfied me. None of them allowed me to satiate any of my desires without unacceptable consequences. All of them ended with me killing him, and that was an outcome that was becoming more and more abhorrent to me with each passing second. The image of his body lying bleeding and broken beneath me made an uncomfortable knot of pain and sickness squirm inside me.

But it did satisfy me. Vengeance is an elusive whore.

"Go on then," he said.

He picked up the gun from the table, grabbed my hand and slapped the weapon over my palm. My finger wrapped around the trigger. I wasn't aware of what was happening when his hold tightened around my hand, moving it against my will and aiming the gun at his heart.

"Do it."

My legs were shaking. Not trembling. Not shuddering.

Shaking.

Uncontrollably.

I felt like my stomach was trying to tie itself in knots. I was still holding the gun. It had been more than few seconds of silence and the gun was still aimed at him. I hadn't lowered it, not that he expected me to. His eyes were flashing and every few moments his lips twisted down in an idiotic determination.

"Go ahead. That's the great thing about guns; they are too quick. I'll probably die immediately and you'll feel better. Isn't that what you want?"

I stood still, but then the fight left my eyes. No longer was there the flame of revenge. Now it was only defeat.

For a second I let myself look at him, without the distorting haze of anger and resentment, and I saw him as I used to – remarkable and special. His eyes caught mine and suddenly I was back to the day we first met. The day I first saw those eyes looking at me like no one else ever had.

Years flashed before my eyes.

His face was impassive and smooth. Unreadable. But his eyes were looking at me with a soft glow. Sharp and challenging. They were blazing and I didn't know why, but my new false-bravado felt heavy under his gaze. It started to fall. It slid off me like mud, dirty and thick.

_My façade? Gone._

I couldn't sustain it. He was draining it out of me.

I was exhausted and I hadn't even done anything yet.

I looked at him again, and suddenly it felt like I was seeing him – _really_ seeing him – for the first time. I felt his energy. Like a wave of heat all around him. It was weird that I could feel it so strongly. I tried not to question it and just latch onto it.

We stood there for a few seconds, just breathing. My eyes never left his. The air between us solidified, connecting us, like two parts of the same person. And I couldn't help but remember the games we played. Back in time. Eight years ago, when things were easy. When imaginary lands flew past our very fingertips. As we used to pretend to be heroes, dancing and playing in the shadows of the real world.

Because it was just a game to us. Life was nothing more than that.

My hair used to fly past my shoulders in fantastical raven tresses. Always impossibly long. Always getting prettier. I would leap, jump around my room in joy while he watched me in total awe. And my cool leafy dress flew past my legs. When childish giggles erupted freely from my throat. In those times, magic swirled from everywhere. Being the fragile child that I was, I used magic with skill and precision without ever learning how.

_Can we ever regain what we'd lost? Can we ever be the blissful children we once were?_

_Can we ever have that magic back?_

But I knew the answer without having to ask anyone. There is no magic without the people who make it. And I couldn't be that child anymore.

Neither could he.

He never resembled simplicity anymore, but everything I learned to hate in my life. He resembled rain falling onto those unsuspecting souls. He resembled water, falling from a tap, which might appear rather innocent. Sinfully innocent in fact. He resembled coffee, falling from a machine. Sweet, though only to aspire. He resembled tears. Salty remnants of yesterday's thoughts. Feelings of sadness and joy mixed. Wonderfully psychopathic.

He resembled rubies. _Cut_ rubies of course. He resembled an enigma; so beautiful, so hard to value. He resembled life. Everything that caused me to lose my faith in humanity.

And he resembled death. He was the very symbol of death. The smell of death. The feel of death.

My hand tightened around the gun, locking my muscles as I felt my ever-fragile hold on my humanity melt away. I held my breath, as I'd learned to do long ago in the face of inconvenient challenges.

_His death will soothe you_, the monster said in his familiar, silky purr. _You know this is what you are meant to do._

I was facing this temptation, and the idea was too fresh in my mind; it was not as if I could shrug off something as potent as _that_. The demon inside jerked at his chains with a sudden burst of strength and clawed his razor-sharp nails down my heart. I swallowed venom and flames.

_You don't have to feel guilty. It's just nature._

My chest shook in a silent, tormented cry.

_Humans come and go. Death is a part of life._

I closed my eyes and breathed. Long, measured breaths. In through my nose, out through my mouth. I tried to imagine a white sheet on a clothesline, blowing in the breeze. It was my focus. The image that calmed me; and peeled away my layers of panic.

I couldn't get it. The image was all blurry and inconstant, like a TV channel I couldn't tune. Memories interspersed. They were all him. His eyes. His smile. The look on his face. The uncertain look on mine.

_Don't do it_, a gentler voice said to me.

The girl's voice was relatively new, and so weak in comparison to the monster's, but I tried to focus on this rational part of myself, that little bit of goodness that I'd managed to grasp onto in the black shadows of my damn sense of revenge.

_But it's a strong one_, countered the beast. It was always full of black velvet temptation.

Fear and indecision kept me standing still, kept my fingers grinding into the weapon's hard substance.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, these kids have quite a dilemma.

I forgot the disclaimer. I own nothing good. When I was seven, I wanted a dog. I didn't get it. When I was ten, I wanted a pony. I didn't get it. Now, I want Hunter X Hunter (and still wouldn't mind that pony). So it should come as no surprise to you that I do not, in fact, own it. Bummer.

Huge thanks to all that continue to read and review. I apologize for not replying to you all, but please know I love and glomp everyone of you. I'd be thrilled if you dropped me a line to let me know your thoughts.


	27. Release

**I am here! Apologies for the slight, erm…more than a month delay. Your feedback continues to leave me humbled and in awe. I cannot believe that the story has hit 50+ reviews in one month. Thank you. I read them all and tried to reply to as many as I could. If I haven't reached yours please take this A/N and a huge booty shake as thanks.**

******If I owned Hunter X Hunter, goodness, what a nightmare that would be. Therefore, I don't.**

**Enjoy!********  
**

* * *

_**27. Release**_

_And all the suffering that you've witnessed_  
_And the handprints on the wall_  
_They remind you how it's endless_  
_How endlessly you fall…_

_"Breathe" by Alexi Murdoch_

* * *

_"Would do anything for your family?" Marcus asked her, drilling his eyes into her drained face. "Would you kill, for their sake?"_

_Yuki fiddled with the hem of her shirt, her eyes darting around in nervousness, unwilling to meet Marcus'. She looked like she was thinking of something to say. Marcus waited calmly. The girl in front of him was too young to be asked such a question. Sometimes, he wished she wasn't so troubled. Sometimes, he wished she would whine to him and complain to him and appeal to him for help. But Yuki was Yuki, and Marcus didn't want to change that._

_He wanted to tell her to live on, to treasure her life, to be a little forgetting. The words wouldn't come. He tried; he opened his mouth to speak, but the lump in his throat made things hard. In the end, he closed his mouth and just looked at her, waiting for her answer, willing her eyes to speak what her mouth could not._

_"Would you?" Marcus urged._

_Her answer was resolute. "Yes."_

* * *

I was left alone. Caught and held by the jealous reality after floating for so long in the arms of the cruel, indifferent unconsciousness. I gasped deeply for air as I was slowly washed ashore to my awareness. It felt like the waves had pushed and rolled me onto my stomach, and I dropped my weight heavily on the metallic chair once again with eyes half closed, my mind smooth and dark like a pebble.

I had drifted for so long, perhaps longer than I realized, until I felt I was nothing more than the glittering ruby orbit of blood in my veins. I was still alive now; I knew that much. The slow pendulum swing of my heart against my ribs was proof enough of that, but the burn in my lungs made me think I had come so close.

The pressure was unbearable.

I could see nothing through my eyelashes aside from the thick fresh smoke around the room, and I shied away from the strange, painful rumblings echoing in my mind, too disoriented to work out why my subconscious was fretting. It pressed an arrow tip to my stomach, and I breathed deep until it dissipated a little.

There was a twist in my stomach, a feeling of being wounded, and yet healed.

The gun in my hand, cold, solid and unforgiving.

Every cell in my body was heavy lead exhaustion. My entire body dutifully reported back to my brain.

_It really happened._

My hair lurched wildly at the strong midnight wind coming from the huge slot in the wall.

The door of the room finally swung open. Marcus entered. He was saying something. His eyes were very serious. His mouth forming words I couldn't hear.

I had a vague awareness that his hot hands were nudging my shoulders, achingly slowly, leaving behind a warm friction that inch by inch awoke my skin. The nerve endings were each being lit like birthday candles, needing to be blown out but instead left to smoulder.

"…what the hell happened, Yuki?"

A dark-jewelled memory was lit by the building flames, something that made my heart ache, but I turned away from the flicker. I was not ready to think, or remember, just yet. My body produced a deep, wracking shiver as the heavy mass of anger was twisted up.

"What have you done, Yuki? _Yuki_!"

_It happened._

In the silences between my heartbeats, I could hear Marcus blaming me, talking to me, so faint and far away it was almost a foreign language on a half tuned radio, but the subtitles and tone were undeniable – dark crooning words of fury and confusion, and a tremor of fear. I closed my eyes, shushing my heart, trying to eavesdrop, or understand. It was no use.

I tried and failed to muster the energy to lift my head.

I concentrated on the smaller task of refocusing my blurring eyes. I practiced on the scattered glass on the table. My eyes struggled to adjust to the moonlight that filtered through and gradually spot-lit pieces of my consciousness.

Marcus' hands continued to revive me, coaxing me back to the tangled, twisted awareness that I fought against.

_I'm… heavy… I can't move_, I realized.

I felt a hot gust on my chin. Irritated, Marcus lifted my face. The sounds he made were screams. He was screaming at me. At the top of his lungs.

"Tell me what happened!"

_I can't… Not yet… _I managed to say in my mind, sending the message into the darkness, a white envelope pushed under a dark door, as time hardened like cement, weighing down my skin, and fatigue reclaimed me.

I wanted to run.

Escape.

I knew about running. Towards, or from, I had always been running.

I could still hear the squeak of the trigger and feel the shock-waves that made my teeth rattle, my only thought being to breathe deep to steady my hands, to mechanically keep the gun in my hand. Over the years, I had deliberately honed my ability to not run, but walk towards.

Even if it caused immeasurable pain.

The searing shock of what happened still alarmingly fresh. Like I was being cut open. I remembered the blunt terror, as though I fell to Earth like a shot bird, that I would never see him again. My face twisted with horrified realization.

_Nothing will be the same… I know. _

The icy fingers of reality were numbing my fingers and toes, and the sickness spread even as I tried to halt it, desperately trying to still my mind, diverting my attention.

Marcus scowled murderously as he detected my hesitation in meeting his eye.

I closed my eyes casually, forcing myself to sit relaxed, to keep my breath soft and even, as the full extent of what had happened solidified the air to ice. I sat frozen in place, acid against the back of my eyelids, my heart shredded open.

Marcus was on his knees in front of my chair, somehow not touching or speaking, yet commanding my attention, his face filling my entire field of vision. I tried to look away, but could not. He stared into my eyes, a tiny frown line between his brows as he studied the intricate prisms of color in my eyes. I had to blink from the intensity of his gaze; I felt more open, more exposed, than I had in my life.

Two officers stood dumbfounded behind Marcus, clutching at their guns in awe.

The night outside was vicious. The wind, sharp as knives, had blown straight into the room. One of the room's walls was almost completely destroyed, allowing the wind to kick and trip over the tree tops, before crushing itself against our bodies with astonishing force.

We managed to stand firm, though we did shudder from the strain.

Wind slid through everything inside the room and caused the door to creak violently, open and closed. It was like the place was alive. The remnants of the glass on the table groaned with each fresh blast of wind. The air outside was painfully cold, but fevers burned inside tonight.

_It really happened._

* * *

_It would end here, tonight, this very spot. It would be her finger that would deliver the final judgment._

_She would lose him.  
_

_People always told her that it would get easier. That she would learn to get over it. She hadn't really ever 'gotten over it.' It never really got 'easier' either. It got more tolerable to bear. The pain faded away with time, but it never went away. It was always there._

_She lifted her eyes to meet his. Eyes that promised such torment, for every moment of her childhood. She was nothing but an innocent, yet he had still found reason to hurt her. ____She could not see his dark intentions for her. __She knew she was nothing to him. Nothing more than a game, __something that entertained him_ immensely. His words, even the sweetest ones, were like wounds to her. Reminders of how foolish she was to fall in his trap.  


_Everything he said tonight did nothing but confuse her even more._

_I was nothing to him, she kept reminding herself.  
_

_She clutched tightly at his shirt. And closed her eyes. The gun against her hand was cold, hard, and terrifying. Her hand was still shaking. She wanted to pull the trigger now. She wanted to so desperately. She needed to. Just to ease the weight off her chest. She had to, to stop the pain in her lungs. It was the only way. She had to pull the trigger and prevent her outright sobbing. If she pulled the trigger, he wouldn't be here._

_Too much to lose.  
_

_Taking a deep breath, she did it. Whatever-it-was inside her cracked all the way through, from top to bottom, when she pulled the trigger. A nameless chill went down Yuki's spine then, a frisson of fear and disorientation like she'd just felt the floor tilt beneath her, threatening to spill her into some darkness lying beneath._

_But the gun made no noise. Not a single sound came out.  
_

_Nothing happened. _

_Dumbfounded, she checked the gun again, pulled the trigger several more times, but it only made small, worthless squeaks. Her eyebrows flew up. Horrified, she looked at him. _

_Killua backtracked a few steps, his eyes widening as he looked at her. Like a person studying a very strange map. Like he was working out what direction he needed to take._

_He was startled. He couldn't hide that.  
_

_His face appeared tense, unrelaxed, bearing pain. He froze for one second, and then hid his eyes behind his bangs. "…I see." She heard him say. He shoved one hand in his pocket and pulled out the bullets of the gun. _

_"B-but… when did you…" she started to mumble. Then like a strong punch in the gut, she remembered her constant pacing in the room earlier. It should have been easy for him to steal the bullets at some point, which only meant one thing: he was testing her. But she felt no anger at him for tricking her. There was no room in her body to contain anything besides the shock that ran through her mind and deep inside her heart.  
_

_Yuki lowered the gun and panted, the breaths shallow, edged by weak, constricted sounds of pain. She examined his face, the pulse in her neck fluttering wildly, her stomach brimming, and realized that she had no defenses left against him._

_She was having trouble putting her thoughts into words._

_His eyes darkened imperceptibly as his expression grew harder and the tension passed through them both. Hard as stones, the green eyes glared at her. His glare was ferocious and a sudden energy shimmered almost visibly under his skin. She felt the tension in his arms, sensed his hands clenched in tight fists on his sides. _

_Anyone else would have cowered back from an expression so frightening. He looked like he was about to breathe sparks and thunder. _

_She felt scared, uncurling strangeness inside her as his lids dropped. _

_His aura filled the place. It was dominating, sharp, furious, and dangerous. It hit hard on her chest. And all of a sudden, the electricity in the room started blinking rapidly. Quickly, it started to flicker and die. Like it was going crazy. The light fulgurated more and more until the bulb above their heads cracked cleanly in half and fell to the stained table, where it broke into even smaller pieces._

_Her heart started hammering even harder._

_As her eyes began to adjust to the blinding darkness, a loud, deafening sound was heard. Confusion, fear - they clouded her mind. Her eyes darted around the room, but everything was pitch black, a void. What was that sound? What had happened? Where was Killua? Her pulse rate quickened. Totally panicked, Yuki looked around her again as she saw that one of the room's walls was completely crashed, demolished, in pieces, exposing the crowded streets of York Shin. Slight smoke filled the room. Yuki quickly ran towards the edge, searching the streets for him, but he was gone. Completely vanished. _

_Her chest pounded hard and her feet retreated. She dropped herself at the chair again, the gun still cold and hard in her hand. She felt a small, insignificant jolt of relief through her spine; she was free now, safe, noncommittal to any action or emotion. _

_She pictured this situation countless times throughout the years. What she would say, how he would react, and in turn how she would respond, until she drove herself half delirious and could no longer trust herself. She harshly reprimanded herself with every breath she took._

_Weak, predictable, unfaithful, cowardly._

___ Letting out another sigh of relief, she sat silently as the wind from outside engulfed her and cooled her brow, tugged at the edges of her clothes. She tried to think of something more black and white. _

___There were too many shades of gray._

___She never knew the loss would be too tough to overcome.  
_

* * *

**Killua's PoV**

I ran.

Every steel cable of self-control that tethered me to my serenity suddenly snapped as if it was an old, rotted string. Every muscle in my body was screaming and sighing simultaneously – begging, pleading, raging for violence – taut and poised for any action I decided upon. Of course the result of the tsunami of conflicting desires was that I was rooted helplessly to the spot, paralyzed as I burned and ached and throbbed for some kind of release.

I had always considered myself to be a rational person. I thought it was one of my strengths.

Even as a killer, I was methodical…even-tempered. I had an uncanny ability to predict what people were thinking and so, in some small way, I always felt in control of most social situations.

I liked being in control.

I liked being rational.

Killers, by nature, aren't rational. They are instinctual. Supreme predators, using their unparalleled senses to hunt and kill their prey. They're supremely selfish beings and had no need to be understanding or merciful, acting without conscience or consequence.

I made a moral choice to modify my murderous nature. I refused to give in to the dark, simple desires of the ruthless beast inside of me.

Right now, holding that beast back was a crawling unease. It was like having constant itch that you chose to never scratch.

It would be so easy to scratch it – to scrape away the interminable, itching craving – but then the itch would be replaced by toxic guilt. The kind of guilt that festered in the dark places of a mind struggling to be so much more than monstrous.

My mind.

For once, I didn't want to be rational. I wanted to tell the rational side of me to shut the hell up and sit in the corner. I wanted to let my instinctive passionate assassin nature have its way. I wanted to let my instincts take over.

_I wanted, I wanted, I wanted._

That was my goddamn problem.

I wanted everything I couldn't have. Everything I _shouldn't_ have.

A sharp, unexpected pang of loneliness twisted inside me.

_This is not the time to panic,_ I chided myself. _Keep a hold of yourself._

I pushed the loneliness aside. It was easily done. After so many years of managing to feel alone even in the presence of people who loved me, I was a master of solitude.

The scene around me wasn't encouraging. The city was crackling with anticipation. The main avenue was packed with street vendors, shouting to the passersby to buy their wares, and the streets were just bustling with people going about their way to get to work or whatever the hell they did.

For as far as my eyes could see, there was a sea of faces around me. Women loudly gossiped among themselves. Children cried, squealed, laughed. I passed through the next street, and the scene was just worse. A mob of angry people – obviously drunk – were pillaging stores, breaking the glass windows of many shops, setting fire to them, stealing as much as their arms could carry. They were pulling people from the shops and beating them in the streets.

Watching them was like waving a fully prepared syringe of heroin in front of a junkie and daring them to not plunge it straight into their screaming veins._  
_

I had to get out of there. I had to remove myself from the path of temptation or else I'd have lost the person I'd striven so hard to become and never find him again.

I smelled the stray cats before I ambled around the alley corner. They were medium-sized, covered in a scruffy layer of fawn-colored shag that was caked with semi-dried mud. Dirt and animal death—odoriferous scents of decay—clung to them; they'd undoubtedly rolled in something. Even so, it was the boy that stood behind them that I noticed most strongly. The little kid was feeding the cats from a nylon bag. I stared at him, feeling my claws aching to grow a little.

He stared back, unflinchingly. His expression of cold unconcern. Though his heart was reacting in turn, pumping through his small and fragile chest. The heartbeat was faster than an average human's, fluttering at about one hundred beats per minute.

The cats stopped whatever they were doing and watched me with dark, cautious eyes, their nostrils flaring as they sniffed the air. They whimpered, probably correctly sensing they were in the presence of a superior predator. A growl rumbled in their chest. Soon enough, they ran towards the streets, seeking an escape.

The kid, however, wasn't as smart as they were. He stayed. I stared back at him and wondered, _Does he have no sense of self-preservation?_

"Run," I ordered him. I was dangerously close to losing control. He tilted his head at me, as if considering my words. "Dammit, run!" I spat and pointed toward the streets. Nodding and gasping harder, he ran from his spot and out of the alley, the heels of his small boots clicking on the wet ground.

I took a deep breath and looked down at my shaking hands. I'd nearly killed a child. _A true innocent._ Someone who'd never had a choice or a chance. It went against everything I believed in, even as a killer. I had my morals. My breathing was ragged when I let my body lean limply against the wall.

The bloodlust was still there. My body didn't care what I felt or thought. What the hell was wrong with that boy? Even worse, what was wrong with _me_? I was so arrogant. I didn't make these kinds of inexperienced mistakes anymore. Or so I'd thought.

_It's what you were made to be_, a familiar voice in my head countered. _There's no use fighting it._

I headed back towards the auction building and started to run, the cool breeze hushing across my skin as I raced through the streets, my muscles humming with the warmth of fresh, thundering blood. I ducked and weaved through the buildings easily as I automatically scoured the sounds and smells around me for more prey, my natural instinct to kill igniting my senses.

I exploded through the front door of the auction building without bothering to look at the people I ran into, my mind and body raging red, hot and unquenchable.

I tried my best to remain emotionless as I walked inside the hallways, the underlying smell of beeswax furniture polish layered over the mahogany and dust making me nauseous.

Her name rang in every heavy echo of my heart. Every single beat was her name.

"Killua!" The minute he saw me, Gon blinked taking me in. He immediately approached me and walked right behind me, babbling, "I've been trying to reach you but your phone seems to be out of service." He started jogging when I increased my pace. "I assume you ran out of battery, right? Typical of you!"

I realized I was clenching my teeth so hard that my jaw had started to ache. My fists were tight at the sides of my thighs. My heart was thumping fury and adrenaline around my body making my head feel like it was under water. Blood thundered in my ears.

"Do you know that Illumi was here?" he continued. "I figured you knew something about this 'cause you've been acting strange recently." Gon sensed my change in attitude. "Killua, what happened to your face?" He ran faster to stand in my line of sight, not liking that I was ignoring him. "Are you okay?"

I brushed past him, heading for my bedroom. Gon frowned and followed me silently.

"Shut the door," I demanded when we walked inside the room, forcing myself to speak calmly. Trying to ease the shakiness in my hands, I gripped the bottom of the flower vase that was over the counter.

Gon hurriedly closed the door, his expression ranging from worry, confusion and fear. He winced when the glass crumbled around my fingers. And I couldn't stop myself. My fists pounded every surface they encountered. The whole of my body felt like I had been doused in gasoline and set alight.

"W-what happened?" Gon asked. "Where have you been, Killua? Where's Yuki?"

"Shut up!"

Gon's eyes widened at my outburst and he came closer to me, but I reacted first. "Don't!" I shouted, shaking so vigorously that I was growing lightheaded. I turned around to face the wall and took another series of deep breaths to calm myself down, but the memories in my head only heightened my restiveness.

"Killua…talk to me," Gon croaked out and I picked up on the very subtle tremor in his voice. "Killua? What happened?"

The rage continued to blast through me as my fists pulverized the granite work-tops in the fancy room, pieces of sharp stone blasting through the air like exploding shrapnel, burying themselves in furniture and plasterboard as I roared and raged uncontrollably.

"Killua!" Gon eventually opposed my way, but I shoved him away again. "For God's sake, what's wrong? Is Yuki alright?"

The wrath that had recoiled in me before I entered the room resurfaced with dynamism. "Like hell she's alright!" I yelled. I shrunk back and stared at the floor instead of Gon's eyes. "She found out. She found out everything."

"S-she did? B-but!" Gon stammered, too stunned to go on. He paused for a moment. "I… I'm sure she'll get over this! It'll be okay! I'm sure she knows that you're her friend, after all!"

A cold stitch spasmed through my spine at his last statement. "_Friend_?" I scoffed. "You don't know anything! You didn't see her!"

"But I do know! Because it's not like Kurapika and the Spiders! She knows that you aren't like that anymore!" he shot back, his voice quivering but stern. "She should know that you aimed to make amends for what you'd done! That you're a completely different person now!"

I glared at him. "Don't paint me in such a heroic light!"

"I will!" Gon snapped. His voice was rising and my back stiffened up at the sound. "And you're going to believe it!"

I had never in all my life and everything that I had witnessed and been through, felt as much violence and absolute frenzied rage as I did right now. I gulped, gasped and began pacing back and forth in the room. Gon was wrong. I was not different at all. My thoughts and actions were nothing but the characteristics of a monster.

I stopped pacing in front of the mirror that hang over the counter and looked at myself. My hands were still clenched and my face was almost contorted in an unrecognizable grimace. I took a sharp breath trying not to listen to Illumi's monotone in my head, but I found myself automatically replaying the conversation we had five years ago.

_"Kil, let me give you a little piece of advice: you'll never make a good hunter. Your calling is as an assassin."_

I punched my reflection. As hard as I could. The mirror shattered and crashed, sending shards flying everywhere. I rested my palms over the counter, my skin made contact with the small pieces of the glass. Unconsciously, my hands curled into tense fists around the blades. The blood streamed and dripped down my fingers.

Gon stared at my face, the brown depths of his eyes full of fright and pain. "Killua please," he pleaded. "Stop."

None of this was supposed to happen. Not like this.

I breathed in furiously, tension and frustration streaming out of me in excruciating bursts, taking the edge off the crawling unease that had been infesting me since I left that place. Sharp points of light exploded behind my closed lids, but all I could see was her face – smiling and radiant – looking at me with such…satisfaction. I could imagine that was how she would have looked if she had succeeded in her attempt.

"Marcus," I breathed.

"Marcus? You mean…Yuki's friend? What about him?" Gon checked.

The room shimmered a little around the edges. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted him to feel the pain that I felt. I wanted him to see my face as I destroyed him in every way possible. I despised him with every inch of myself. He had to pay for it all. I wanted to make him pay.

I whirled around, blindly walking towards the door.

"Wait!" Gon protested. He caught up to me and grabbed my shoulders, taking a quick glance at my claws. "Where do you think you're going?" I struggled out of his clutch, but he kept a firm grip on me. "No! You're not going anywhere! You think hurting him will make you feel better?" he shrieked.

_"The only thing that makes you truly happy is extinguishing someone's life. It's true, because you are taught up to be this way by your father and myself. But I shouldn't have to tell you this. You know it as well as everybody else, don't you Killua?"_

"It was his fault."

"No it wasn't!" Gon pushed me back fiercely.

"It was all because of him. I've been imprisoned, insulted—"

He interrupted me. "Killing him won't bring Yuki back!"

"Do _not_ mention her name!" I abruptly raised my arms and shoved Gon vehemently away from me. He twisted his body in an attempt to grab me again, but the movement only caused his legs to convulse and slam him into the wall where his back hit with a strange cracking sound. He fell down and lay motionless with his head at an odd-seeming angle, staring at me worriedly through a curtain of his black hair.

___"This isn't who you are at all. __You can't be a friend to anyone. You're only capable of seeing people in terms of whether or not you're supposed to kill them."_

"No," I whispered, shaking again. My breathing became labored as the fervent rage bubbled in my chest, heaving and building with an exponential potency.

_"Because that's the way you've been brought up. You're confused. You've never met anyone like Gon before. And if you stay with him, eventually you'll try to kill him."_

My hands rubbed the back of my neck, my claws scratching the skin, wishing that I could shred it off so that I could release the wrath that was burning at the surface of my body. I pressed my fingers down until it hurt. My whole body fizzed with energy.

And then I smelled it. Her scent. In the sleeves. Raw and dominant, it burned my throat like wild fire. I ripped my shirt off, slung it to the ground.

I buried my face in my hands. I was repulsed by my loss of control and the fact that it clouded my perspective about everything. My anger was despicable. That I wasn't able to be more in control of my emotions made it all so pathetic. Numbness slowly choked out my adrenaline rush, from the toes upward.

"I'm sorry, Gon. I didn't…" My throat felt swollen. I couldn't finish. "I'm sorry."

Gon released a growl of frustration. "Enough!" he screamed, lunging at me. I couldn't stop him when his fist landed a blow on my jaw. Hard. Hard enough to leave a stinging sensation. It knocked me back a few steps but I remained firm, somewhat bewildered. He punched me again, wincing every time his hand made impact, practically creating more damage to my face. "Stop acting like an idiot!" The pain in his eyes hardened into fiery determination. "This isn't who you are!"

___"This isn't who you are at all._"

When blood started to trail down my face in a thin trickle, Gon stopped.

"I can't pretend to understand what you're going through, but I do know you! And I know you've fought harder than anyone to maintain your hold!" Gon snarled. Then his voice modulated back to a comforting purr. "I know that you'll get through this." Panting, he finally relaxed and sat heavily next to me. "I'm sorry that this has happened to you, but I know that you won't let it defeat you."

I stifled a bitter smile. Sometimes the eternal optimist in him completely hypnotized the brutal reality.

I had no such problem.

I instinctively knew that my situation was hopeless. Still, as always, I considered his counsel.

Finally, the madness subsided and I slumped to the floor, remnants of stone crunching beneath me as I dropped my hands beside me, exhausted and drained. I loathed the gut-wrenching guilt and roaring anger that tugged me in opposite directions – stretching my reason and sanity until I no longer knew which path I was on and why.

I was a monster. If my past hadn't proved that already, this would.

"You're a mess," Gon commented.

"I know."

He released a sigh and suddenly stood up. "Now c'mon." He offered his hand for me. Everything became silent, besides the soft feathery rain sprinkling on the window and my unsteady breathing. I grasped Gon's hand, and he immediately helped me to my feet. "Do you remember what I said to you the last time you lost your cool?"

I smiled briefly. "That being reckless is your thing."

"And?"

I inhaled, slow and deep. "And I shouldn't forget that you're counting on me."

"Yes."

Memories bombarded me faster than I was able to handle. I was slowly losing my grasp on the situation, unable to deflect the thoughts rapidly hitting me and leaving me with nothing but shattered fragments and bitter reminders; things I'd buried away, or at least I thought I had.

"You should get some sleep. You need a lot of it," Gon said. My discomfort must not have been as well masked as I thought.

I often wondered how Gon did this. No one else ever came close to me when I was on the brink of insanity, teetering between unconscious and whatever state it was I lived in normally, but Gon always knew. He barely acknowledged me as he left the room, the door clicking and my body collapsing clumsily on the bed, waiting for sleep to overtake me.

* * *

I rested atop my comforter for hours, my mind running rampantly in circles. My eyes traced the shadows on the wall and counted the number of headlights I saw, their lights reflecting off the glass panes of the windows. I had to stop attempting to blame Yuki's actions, but I couldn't. Rationalizing my thoughts turned out to be a lot more difficult even in my calm state.

Confusing questions continued to swirl in my mind, questions I had no answers to. They were _nearly_ as frustrating as the emotional turmoil. _Conflicted_. That was the word, and it was the only thing that kept me still. Running into a situation with conflicted emotions wasn't exactly a very good idea, so I remained in bed.

The sun had not risen yet; the only light came from the sliver of a crescent moon that slipped through the blinds and cast strange shadows on the wall. The stars were scarcely visible, and when I looked down, I could see the smattering of white scars decorating my skin. I sighed and pulled the sheets closer, hiding them from view.

* * *

I couldn't bring myself to sleep. Every time I shut my eyes, visions of intense heat and bright orange flames flooded my psyche, giving me the worst nightmares I'd ever experienced. Sleep had lulled me several times, but never long enough to adequately distract me.

I hoisted myself out of a restless sleep around five o'clock, not wanting to disrupt Gon with my tossing and turning. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and pulled a shirt over my head carefully without disturbing the bruises on my face. I opened the window, desperate for the fresh air.

My mind was numb, all images of Yuki and the previous hours slowly sneaking in. I looked down at the barren street. The view was beginning to look familiar, bits of broken pieces creeping back. The grass was soaking, the playground empty, but otherwise, the park hadn't changed in the past weeks. Swings creaked as they rocked back and forth in the wind.

I cursed repeatedly under my breath. I should've known I couldn't run away from my thoughts. Trying to get her away from my mind and myself in general had only amounted to my desire to go and look for her right now. It wasn't fair.

However, I scanned the area around the building from the window, making sure she wasn't hiding in any corner. Everything was quiet, empty. Maybe I was worrying too much. I knew she would take care of herself. But it wasn't really the physical aspect that had my stomach in tight knots. It was the idea that I left her broken, violated, so emotionally distraught that she couldn't hold herself together, much like I was right now. I knew if she was feeling half of what I was, she would be close to collapsing.

I heard a ruffling sound from behind me when Gon shivered and pulled the sheets above his whole body. I quickly closed the window and my hands left the sill. I got back to my bed, ready to try to sleep again. I couldn't spend the rest of the night trapped in my thoughts; something I knew I would easily do if allowed.

Time passed slowly, but I muddled through it. The minutes I thought were torturous eventually turned into hours, although I couldn't put an exact measure on how long it had been. I wasn't interested in keeping track of something so morbid.

* * *

Morning crept in, early and timid.

I couldn't open my eyes, no matter how much effort I put forth. Every time I cracked them open, my eyelids would flutter shut quickly, blinded by an intense white light. I did my best to sit up, but found moving even more difficult than the previous attempt. Inhaling a shaky breath, I peered through one squinted eye, trying to place my surroundings. The wall nearest me held only a wide window, the blinds halfway drawn, allowing me to catch a glimpse of the rain that was still splattering against the panes. I couldn't tell what time it was, nor could I tell _when _I fell asleep, but it was becoming easier to rule out obvious possibilities.

It was a wonderfully dreadful day outside, the temperature no higher than fifty, giving me a crisp wind that snapped me out of the warmth-induced haze in which I'd stumbled. When the sun surprisingly became too bright for me to venture out, I sat up and rubbed my eye with the heel of my hand. I let out a relieved sigh. The room was blissfully so calm and peaceful—my mind so shockingly _not _on Yuki.

Something I was very thankful for.

"Come in," I responded to the sudden knock on the door.

Leorio's head peeked in. Raising his arm, he greeted me, "Hello!"

"You?" I asked in surprise. "Aren't you supposed to be in the other side of the world?"

"We're leaving tonight. Figured I'd come check on you guys before that." He slipped into the room and closed the door behind him, moving to stand right in front of my bed. "How are you?"

I made the effort to sit properly, resting my elbows on my knees and reflexively rubbing my face. I winced in pain, cursing myself for forgetting to be gentle.

"I'm…okay, I think," I answered hoarsely. I could only see Leorio's hand that offered me a glass of whiskey, the ice crackling a bit. I gave him a frustrated look. "I was hoping for something stronger." He grinned widely and offered me his other hand that held a bar of chocolate. I smiled back. "Exactly."

I lazily ripped the wrapper right off and nibbled on the chocolate. My heartbeat slowed.

He sat silently next to me on the bed for a few seconds, staring at the glass in his hand. His voice broke through my thoughts. "You like it?" I nodded mutely. "It's Lindt brand." Leorio added, beaming. "I searched and searched, but couldn't find any chocolate-balls. I couldn't find any of your favorite brands either. Cadbury, Nestle, Hershey. Nothing. Now that was a bummer." He cast me a concerned look. "See, sometimes things don't go the way we plan."

I laughed uneasily. "I see where you're going."

It was obviously one of those 'Let's cheer Killua up' days.

"Anyway," Leorio said, getting up. "You've got a visitor." He pointed at the door with his thumb. "Outside this room."

"I do?"

"Yup." I really wasn't sure what Leorio's little eyebrow wiggle was meant to mean.

I subconsciously found myself getting suspicious. "Who?"

"Some girl called Aimi," Leorio replied, gesturing for me to follow him.

I pouted. "I don't know a girl with that name."

"Well apparently, she knows _you_."

Leorio opened the door to reveal the stranger girl who was in the company of Gon. When our eyes met, her face flushed with excitement.

"Killua-kun," she called me. Her eyes sparkled dreamily. She was a petite, blond-haired girl standing between Gon and Leorio. She was completely ordinary looking with her waist-length hair, plain shirt, brown skirt and boots, but there was still something about her that was…familiar. Her scent was sweet, like gardenias.

_I know this scent._

I blinked. "You're the girl with the water bottle."

Aimi, seemingly oblivious to my crappy mood, launched herself at me, her arms wrapping around my neck. She hugged herself tightly to my chest as I looked down at her blond hair in shock. Her movement had been completely spontaneous, without a single thought, I was forced to drop the chocolate-bar in my hand.

"H-hey, what are you—" I mumbled awkwardly.

She tried to bury herself against my shirt. "I thought I'd never see you again," she muttered, her muffled voice rough like sandpaper. Her hazel eyes lit up as she let go off me. Before I could stop her, she grabbed my hand. Her eyes widened, but she held tight to my fingers. "Oh!" she exclaimed, looking down at our joined hands as she noticed the dry blood. "Let me take care of this, please."

Before I could protest, she was dragging me along with her.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, there you go, sweet readers. At least I didn't leave a huge cliffhanger this time.

A lot of anonymous reviewers left me some questions about the last chapter. But unfortunately, I cannot reply to you all in this author note because it'd be so damn long. So please, if you have a question, you can sign up in this website (create an account), then I can answer your questions in a personal message. Go on, it's free!

Reviews make me happy. You can leave reviews on any chapter, no login required, and there's no need to finish reading it all before you start reviewing chapters - but do please leave at most _one _review. If you have a moment, I'd like to hear your thoughts.

I have another fanart for Yuki and Killua done by **angelofdeath1119**. Go to my profile page and check it out~ It made me squeal like a chipmunk!

Happy late Halloween!


	28. Mad as a Hatter

**Who owns Hunter X Hunter? Not this girl.**

* * *

_**29. Mad as a Hatter**_

A piercing shout jolted me wide awake. "Yuki!" Jei wailed from somewhere in the room. I leapt off the bed, shooting the clock a quick glance as Jei yanked the curtains open. It was almost nine a.m. "Better start waking up by yourself, Yuki, I'm not your personal alarm!" Jei walked to my side of the bed to pull at my arm, edging me to sit properly.

"Fine, I'm up, I'm up!" I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hands.

"And get your mind back on the track. Stop thinking or dreaming about speaking to Kurapika about that issue again."

My heart jumped to my throat. "I wasn't," I whispered in a small voice. Jei gave me a hard look. "I'm not!" He gave me a skeptical look. "Seriously!" He arched an eyebrow. "Fine, I _won't_."

But my mind was already considering the idea of trying again with Kurapika. If I wanted him to tell me anything, I had to come up with a different way to approach the subject. Maybe butter him up a little. Taking advantage of the time was also a good idea, because he was usually in his best moods early in the morning, especially after his third cup of coffee.

"Hey Jei? Do you know if Kurapika is in his office?" I asked tentatively, trying to avoid looking at Jei's eyes.

"No, he's not. He disappeared a few minutes ago without saying anything," Jei answered. He squinted at my lack of response, but I was still determined not to look at his eyes, so my eyes were practically going back and forth between his face and his shirt, like I was having a seizure or something.

"Except…I don't know if you may be interested in this, but Kurapika only met a few people today," Jei added later, his eyes twinkling for some reason. I sat straighter in my bed. "Three of the guests, Senritsu, who is now gone with him, Nostrad-san and—" I dreaded the pause Jei had to take. I had a feeling I wasn't going to like it. Not one bit. "—Killua."

_Perfect._

I flopped back down and pulled a pillow over my head. Sometimes I was convinced that my life was just a series of sketches for _The World's Funniest Home Videos_, minus all the pants-dropping business. Except my life wasn't really all that funny if you think about it.

* * *

I walked into the cafeteria and saw that Killua was the only one there, waiting for his order on the counter. His bright red shirt made him easily recognizable in the wide room, and the light coming from the windows caught the highlights in his hair, giving them a silvery shine.

My stomach twisted unpleasantly and my breath shortened when I realized that my only choice was to ask _him _about Kurapika. So I ignored the heat that flooded through me when I approached him. I tried to look as normal as possible and more importantly, I tried to look at _him_ as normally as possible.

"Where's Kurapika?" I asked, after I stood next to him.

Killua shrugged, eyes on me, then back on the cup in his hand, and I watched a little too closely as his fingers smoothly stirred his tea with a wooden stick. "I suppose that's not the way people start a nine a.m conversation. I'm pretty sure they say something else. Say like, good morning?"

By the time he finished that sentence, I was mentally exhausted and emotionally cynical. Um, _more_ cynical.

"Jei told me that he saw you leaving his office early this morning and I need to talk to him right now," I said, walking behind him as he moved to one of the tables. "So… do you know where he is?"

Killua teared off another sugar packet and slowly added it to his cup. "I do, actually."

I swallowed back a bit of my irritation. "Where is he?" I asked again.

"I will tell you but…" he trailed off, stirring his tea once more. "First things first." He looked pointedly at the seat across from him on the table. "You gotta make some effort in starting a normal conversation with me if you really are determined to keep that truce going between us," he finished with a smirk.

His smirk grew wider when I took the seat and he motioned to the waitress, tapping the lip of his cup with his index finger to signal for one more. He was smooth in that way that couldn't be taught or learned. I used to like that.

"So, what's up?" he asked me then, left eyebrow arched. I used to like that, too.

My stomach flipped at the thought of him noticing me staring at him for the past three seconds.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, let me explain to you how conversations usually work. In many parts of the speaking world, 'what's up' is a phrase used most commonly by the younger generation that signals greeting or—"

"Alright! Nothing's up with me," I told him. It was almost not a lie.

"Liar, liar, little pants on fire."

Little pants? I looked at him strangely. "They're leggings," I corrected him unconsciously. It was winter—I had to resist the temptation to wrap myself up in flannel on a daily basis. Leggings were an achievement for me.

Killua scoffed. "I'm a guy. Things that cover your legs: pants." He contemplated this for a moment and shrugged. "Girls just confuse me. Leggings, cheggings—"

"_Jeg_gings," I corrected him again.

"Yeah, what the heck are jeggings?"

I rolled my eyes. "Jean leggings."

He looked confused for a second. "Aren't those just jeans?"

I would have rolled my eyes again, but I was afraid that I'd done it so much today; they might have gotten stuck. "No, they're really tight—and sort of stretchy. Anyway, where is—"

"Again, aren't those just jeans?"

"Don't bother, you wouldn't get it."

Killua nodded solemnly. "You're right. I wouldn't. I do not understand terms like that, because I'm not gay. Of course, you already know that, as of few days ago." Still with that smirk.

"Are you saying that before two weeks ago, it's feasible that I could have thought you were gay?"

He frowned. "Yeah, I didn't think that comment through."

"Welcome to a concept called think before you speak."

He smirked again. "Luckily, I'm in a really good mood this morning, so I'm just gonna let that one slide." He changed the way he was sitting, leaning forward on his elbows. "So tell me, how are you spending your time in here? What do you do when you're not throwing tantrums or shooting unsuspecting boys with big guns?" he teased. I shot him a scowl.

"Let's get this over with," I retorted icily. "You asked for a normal conversation and we had one, so tell me where Kurapika is, because I'd truly rather be anywhere but here."

He winced and leaned back in his chair, pretending like he'd been injured. "You wound me," he groaned. I huffed, crossing my arms. "Oh, so you really do hate it when I use my sarcasm."

"Noway, are you kidding me? I absolutely love it."

Killua narrowed his eyes playfully. "Wait a minute, you just used—" He saw the look on my face and cut off. "Never mind. Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Since we agreed on that 'truce'." He made sure to use air-quotes. "I feel like there's something missing, so I think we should seal the deal. Maybe set some rules."

"Rules?"

"Yeah."

"We don't need rules. We're not a board game."

"See, I think you're wrong."

"We _are_ a board game?"

"No," he said, smiling. "I mean, I think we can't go back in time and do everything like we did as friends and just expect it to work."

"We're not going to be friends; we're just going to avoid being at each other's throats for a couple of days."

"And in order to succeed in that attempt, we need those said rules."

I gave up. "Fine." Then an idea shone upon me. "Normal people have a higher threshold for provoking each other than ex-boyfriends—" He gave me a look "—fine, and ex-girlfriends—do. So that can be rule number one. No annoying each other."

His shoulders dropped. "You're ridiculous. Our whole relationship was based on me annoying you, you liking it, and me liking that you liked it." I responded with silence. Killua sighed. "Alright. Rule number two can be: no dirty planning behind each other's backs. Which means that the truce will be immediately broken the minute I notice any abnormal behavior from you, and I'll not be responsible for my reaction if I find out you're trying to kill me in my sleep."

"Okay." I nodded woodenly in agreement. The waitress demonstrated excellent timing and brought my cup over. I took a tentative sip, and even though it was burning my tongue because I drank it too soon, it was warm and relaxing. I turned to Killua again and demanded, "Rule number three: we forget about everything that happened in the past two weeks."

His face didn't change, but he held my gaze for too long. This moment should be serious, but instead, it winded up being kind of intense—I was looking at him, and he was looking at me and even though I was trying, I was not looking at his eyes, but into them.

"You got that."

He ordered for himself another cup of tea, and we sat in silence for a few minutes. Suddenly, his face broke into a small smirk, though it was a little forced this time. "I can't believe how much you're fighting this."

I knew what he meant. "Fighting what?"

"Nothing." He looked away. "I guess that's it. Those are the basic rules." He blew at his cup before tasting it. Then he completely changed the path of the conversation by saying, "I see you and Aimi are going to be BFFs."

"Oh? She seems to like you more though. Every time she sees you, she says your name like she's having a stroke," I said, circling the rim of my cup absentmindedly.

To my surprise, Killua chuckled under his breath. He motioned with two fingers for me to lean closer, so I did, wearing a mask of feigned nonchalance. The left side of his mouth quirked as he said, "I believe that's called a swoon."

I pulled away slightly, so we were eye to eye and said, "You know, I've always known you were a smug bastard but you've reached new levels today."

Killua's gaze shifted sideways as he smiled, and for once, it was not a smirk. It was a genuine—and very rare—smile of pure amusement. It was the kind of smile where his eyes softened and reflected almost a boyish glint. Gone were any traces of the cold-blooded criminal that spied, threatened and killed – not that I had ever truly seen that side of him. _Not yet, anyway. _

He slid his eyes to me. "Well, good to see you're back to being you, I guess. I almost forgot how it feels to have you talking to me like that. Dagger-like words and everything."

There was this moment when the din in the building was muted and all I could see was the strange look in his eyes. Even if he'd never said a word, never let a touch linger, never put a toe over the line, that look said so much. Said _too_ much.

And the buzzing low in my belly told me that I honestly needed to know about how I was currently feeling.

I managed to tear my eyes away, so I turned and faced outward, towards the rest of the room, and as my eyes darted to the entrance of the cafeteria, I saw Aimi's grinning face as she talked with someone, apparently oblivious of the fact that we were few meters away from her, and I found myself mentally sighing in relief, but my eyes narrowed anyway. _What, she's living here now?_

Unfortunately, I was a moron and happened to say this out loud, which caused Killua to reply with, "Kind of."

My heart beat faster as I said my next words. "She slept here?"

He frowned, maybe at my words, but more likely at the taste of his tea. "Oh yeah." He reached out for another sugar packet. "She needed a place to stay, so Gon generously decided to offer her his bed. She was a very fun roommate, if you know what I mean."

I blurted out a scandalized: "What?"

I realized two seconds too late that he was messing with me. The dirty smirk was back in full force on his face. "You should see your face right now."

I knew it was probably brighter than his shirt. "My face is fine."

"You look like a beautiful—" He searched for the word to finish his sentence, but before I could freak out that he just called me beautiful, he added, "—tomato."

I couldn't help but make a face at that. "A beautiful tomato? What the hell does that look like?"

Killua shrugged, grinning back at me. "Go look in the mirror."

"There's no such thing as a beautiful tomato."

"Alright, get rid of the tomato part, then," he said easily and turned back to the cup in his hand. And then suddenly, all the thoughts in my head crumbled to incoherent pieces.

I tried to shake that off and glare at him like I normally would if he had made any other comment afterwards. But he didn't. He made _this_ comment, and it felt anything but good. It was such a warring feeling. One part of me was inevitably warmed inside by the compliment, and another was absolutely loathing how uneasy I suddenly felt.

When I pulled myself out of my head, Killua had already turned away from me and taken a sip of his cup, his lips wrapped around its lip, making me think of when they were on _my_ lips.

A hot welling of something sharp stabbed me in the guts, and I had to shake out of this stupor I'd worked myself into.

I pushed that feeling down and took a long sip of my tea—I was very good at doing that. The fighting my feelings part, not the drinking part. But I knew what I had to do, and I refused to let this stupid gnawing in the pit of my stomach ruin every decision I had already made. Working together with him for few days was fine with me; this feeling was not. It was toxic and ugly, and within a few moments, I'd convinced myself that I didn't want to see him for the rest of the day.

Things were different now, but deep inside of me, it didn't feel like they were, and if I didn't act like they were, then they wouldn't really be different.

Killua turned to me and frowned as I left my chair.

"You're leaving? I thought you wanted to know where Kurapika is."

I could only reply with the first thing that came to my mind.

"Getting tired." Tired of him. Tired of me. Tired of hearing my own thoughts, which seemed to have been in constant disarray.

"Huh?"

I regained a full control on my brain. "Never mind. I will see him later tonight." I nodded dumbly to myself, my thoughts still circling around. "I gotta check on some work anyway. For tonight's auction."

He took a big chug to finish the rest of his tea. "Yeah I should do that too."

"No!" I said a little too loudly, a little quickly.

Killua looked alarmed. "What?" he asked, scrunching up his face in confusion.

"I can take care of everything. You stay here."_ Away from me._

His reply came after few long seconds of scrutinizing me. "Okay. I guess I'll see you later."

"Yeah."

"Tonight?" he said, looking right at me, and the weird crawling feeling in my stomach burst into various of butterflies. As I waited myself to recover from the impact of that one word, he stared at me with one eyebrow raised and I felt hot. Not good-looking-hot, more like I'm-sweating-hot. But not sweaty-sexy-hot, like sweaty-gross-hot. And maybe a little hot-and-bothered-hot.

I knew I _was_ going to definitely see him tonight, but there was something off about the way he said it, so I swallowed before speaking. "Sure."

"Tonight, then."

He said it like a promise.

Wordlessly, I walked to the entrance and stepped out into a cold, crowded room. For a moment, I felt relieved it all went good that I considered going back inside. But in the end, I decided to end things on a high note instead of messing it up again with my thoughts and feelings. I walked quickly down the many, many hallways to my room before I could change my mind and distracted myself before any of my thoughts could catch up with me.

* * *

**Killua's PoV**

Minutes later, Jei seated himself on my table after he found me sitting semi-conscious with a new Lindt bar. I chewed on my mouthful of chocolate, darting my gaze to outside the cafeteria door where Aimi engaged herself with Yuki in a rather loud conversation. I diverted my eyes back to my Lindt, deciding that it worth my full attention, since it helped calm my nerves.

I managed to demolish at least twelve bars since last night.

"AWESOME! Let me give you a makeover then!" Aimi's voice echoed through the walls.

I gave another sidelong glance.

"Girls," Jei grunted fondly. The DS in his hands suddenly beeped, signaling that it was out of battery. "I was on level FIFTY! Damn it to hell," he swore, stamping his foot and stomping over to his room to search for a spare.

I merely rolled my eyes. "Boys," I added, just as affectionately.

* * *

_Yuki stared at her phone in irritation, trying to ignore the rush of guilt that crawled at her heart. She flipped over in bed to face the door when she heard a knocking, and suddenly the door flung open, and Killua stormed in with a sprightly look, barely giving her a moment to react. _

_"Would you like some slush?" he offered, holding up the frozen purple drink. "Gon and Jei finished their strawberry-flavored ones in two minutes while we were shopping for the wedding stuff, and I am stuck with this blueberry-flavored drink which is quite…" He looked at the plastic cup in disgust. "It's really sour and…it hurt my teeth." His eyes narrowed when she responded with a tiny, weak smile. "Something wrong?" _

_She returned her phone on the bedside table and pulled the blankets closer to her chest. "Not really… but I just had a little fight with my uncle." She looked up at Killua, watching him moving to sit on the bed beside her. "I think I hurt him." _

_Killua's mouth turned into a thin line. "Look, even if you did, he's not going to stay mad at you for more than few minutes."_

_"Maybe Marcus was right about what he said about me being an emotionless uber-bitch sometimes."_

_Killua scoffed. "I don't know who is dumber: Marcus for saying something like that, or you for actually believing it." His tone got very serious as he said, "I don't want to hear you saying such things about yourself again. It's not true."_

_"So I'm not a mean, frosty, emotionless uber-bitch?" Yuki asked._

_He laughed it off. "Not to me."_

_Yuki grinned back at him. There. That was all she needed to hear.  
_

_She paused to glance up at him. She suddenly wanted to ask him a favor, but wasn't sure if it would be appropriate._

_"Killua?"_

_He started moving the cup to the bedside table. "Yeah?"_

_ Her gaze drifted back down to the blanket as she spread it on her lap. "Could you—nah, I don't think I should make you do that…"_

_The former assassin perked up. "If you need something, then I'll try to fetch it for you." He meant that. Just seeing the ready look on his face almost had her wishing she hadn't said anything.  
_

_"No. Really. It's…it's nothing. It's too stupid…"_

_"Spit it out, Yuki, what do you need?"_

_Well, he did insist. She took a deep breath: in through her nose, out through the mouth in one thick puff. "See, I…when I was a kid, when I felt a bit gloomy like I am now, my brother used to sit in bed with me, and we'd read together. And kind of…" She gulped down the anxious lump crawling up her throat. "…cuddle, a little."  
_

_She sorta found it a miracle that Killua didn't fall clean on the floor. "Y-you guys cuddled?" he stuttered.  
_

_She couldn't help but choke a little. "Uh-huh." Yuki grinned uneasily. "I was…five," she defended. "Look, I know it sounds corny but–"  
_

_That was when she noticed him moving to sit next to her on the other side of the bed, and felt a hand squeezing her shoulder. Yuki's eyes popped open to find Killua leaning in to snake an arm across her shoulders like a scarf, a timid glow to his cheeks. "You want me to do the same thing, don't you?" he asked softly._

_Now it was her turn to blush, the warmth of his hand shooting through her shoulder and straight into her heart. Into her eyes, as well. She could be so sappy, at times. "Well, uh, not really, I—yeah. Yeah, that's kind of where I was getting at. Yeah. I'm sorry, I don't want you to–"_

_"I'll do it," he said._

_"…Alright."_

_"Alright."  
_

_She snuggled under the blankets, resting her head against his shoulder, falling asleep shortly afterwards. Killua wasn't really sure what else he should do, so he just held her. At the sight of her sleeping, he felt her vulnerability, a twist in his stomach as he let his gaze wander slowly back down her face as she blew a long breath out of her mouth. He felt her warmth as it__ fused to his, creating a heat that seeped into his body to disappear into his bones._

___ Killua lied there for three hours wide awake as Yuki rested contentedly in his arms. __She stirred in her own welcome slumber and burrowed deeper into his neck, light warm breaths rhythmically falling on his skin. Lonely rays of sunlight started sneaking from the window. _"Yuki?" _he whispered, wondering how deeply under she was. He called to her a few more times with no response. __Finally, ever so slowly and silently, he tried to slip his arm out from under her sleeping form, but she quickly tightened her fingers at his shirt. He froze, his eyebrows shot up, and he found himself questioning his reasoning for leaving her now for a moment, but eventually surrendered to the idea that he probably shouldn't. _

___As noiseless as he could manage_, he pulled the blanket up to her chin and___ breathed a heavy sigh as his eyes closed, feeling a warm bubble of strange, pure calm welling inside him._

* * *

**Yuki's PoV**

"What about that one?" Aimi pointed at a hot pink strapless dress with a brushed velvet band in the same color at the tiny empire waist. There was a subtle shimmer to the fabric, which made the dress sparkle and shine in the entire store.

"Nah, too flagrant."

"What about this?"

"Too…country."

"And this? That's a great dress; it would look wonderful with your skin tone!"

"I'm sure it would make me look like a clown."

"This?"

I threw my arms in the air in frustration. "Aimi, I told you I don't want the dress to draw too much attention. It's the underground auction, therefore I'm looking for something more…refined."

"Then I know exactly what you're looking for!" Aimi gleefully squealed. Any chance I had to object disappeared as she grabbed another dress from the rack and thrust it at me. "Try this on. I already know it's perfect for you, but I need the full visual. Then we'll get to work picking out the shoes and accessories!" she said excitedly. Her whole body seemed to vibrate like a hyper child that had gotten her hands on a bag of candy.

I observed the dress she was holding and felt a blush of gigantic proportions coming on. "Uh…no. I'd look like a hooker from hell!"

"No! Purple looks good on you! Besides, it'll look better when you try it on, trust me," Aimi said slyly, looking entirely too young for her seventeen years.

A few minutes later I was staring at my reflection in the dressing room mirror. It was a very plain, deep purple low-cut dress that ended at my mid-thigh and hugged all my curves. The velvety fabric beautifully faded to a darker color just where I ran my palms against the waist, observing the crossed strings formed x-shaped designs on the band around my upper ribs.

I had to admit, the dress _did_ look better when I put it on, but not to the point that made me feel any less uncomfortable about wearing it in public. It wasn't particularly indecent, but it showed enough skin to tempt everyone to look, and not enough to be tacky. I struggled with pulling the long zipper up my back and turned around to check out the rear view. The dress left half of my back exposed and fell smoothly over my backside; however, it was too tight some areas were excessively prominent.

"Yuki-chan! What are you doing in there, fixing the national debt?" She was a pushy little thing. "Let me see!" I could see Aimi's shadow moving under the door. I wondered if she was ever subdued. At that thought, I had a vision of one of those desk toys with the silver balls that bounced off one another. Once you set it off, it took a while to wind down again.

I stepped out of the little room and did a little pirouette for effect. _Uh-oh. Bad idea! _I stepped on my shirt that was on the floor and tripped, promptly lost my balance, staggering into the rack that held the dressing room cast-offs. _Oh God_. I landed on my butt underneath the clothes, silently thanking the universe that the rack hadn't tipped over too. I heard a stifled giggle from outside of the wall of clothes I was currently hidden in before a tiny hand poked through.

"Whoa there, are you okay? Let me help you up," Aimi said, still trying to control her laughter.

For a moment, I entertained the thought of pulling her down with me. _I wonder if she'd be laughing then_. "Yeah, I'm fine. Happens all the time." I grabbed her hand and let her assist me up. I smiled sheepishly, glancing around to see if anyone else had witnessed my little display of grace. Thankfully, it was a Tuesday and the mall wasn't very busy. Small favors and all that.

"All the time, huh?" Were those tears in her eyes? I knew I should have pulled her little laughing ass down.

"I can be a little coordinationally challenged sometimes," I defended.

"I'm beginning to see that, after Marcus told me about you banging into him with the kitchen door at his house."

I couldn't help but chuckle at the memory. "God, I can't believe he's still telling this story."

"Reminds me of that incident I once had with my brother, though he's got a hard head. I'm telling you, I've been trying to break his nose for years," she joked.

I laughed at the mental picture of tiny Aimi throwing a haymaker at someone. It was ridiculous. "Why so vicious, Aimi?"

"You must be an only child. If you had any siblings you'd understand the kind of deep seated need for violence that only comes from having siblings. The things older brothers do to you when they're bored…" She shuddered dramatically. "My brother put gum in my hair when I was in the sixth grade. I was devastated at first, but then I discovered that I looked great in short hair. I forgave them, but only after throwing a couple of punches. My second brother was a gentleman at least and didn't try too hard to block me, but the other just planted his meaty hand on my forehead and let me swing away until I got tired. Damn him and his gorilla arms!"

"Okay, I get it," I said with a small smile. Now it was my turn to try not to cry from laughing so hard. That picture was just too priceless. "I would definitely have to kill anyone that put gum in my hair."

When our laughter died down, she looked me up and down with a critical eye and wagged a manicured finger at me. "This is the dress. Fabulous!"

"It's not too much?"

"Nu-uh! Now go change and we'll move on to the shoes. Let's move! You're still going to need time to get ready after we buy this stuff!"

I raised my eyebrows. _Okay, tiny drill sergeant. _

We continued chatting as I changed and we went to look for the rest of my outfit. She helped me pick out a pair of black low-heeled shoes because she agreed that I shouldn't wear higher heels after the dressing room incident. She also picked out a sixty inch rope of tiny matched pearls.

"Aimi, I don't think I'll ever wear this with anything!"

"Oh, silly, this is the epitome of versatile! It's like you get twenty different necklaces in one! You can loop them, tie them in a knot, wear them as a belt, twist them into a bracelet, a choker—"

"Geez, okay! I get it." I laughed at her enthusiasm. "But still, no." I snatched the accessory from her hand and put it back to its place. "So how am I supposed to wear this thing tonight?"

Aimi winked at me. "Let's get going, because I still have lots of things to do to you!" She rushed to her car and I followed after I finished paying for my stuff. Aimi yelled, "Hurry up and get in before I get a ticket for stopping in the bus zone!" Startled, I obeyed, practically falling into the bucket seat. Aimi shot forward as I fumbled to buckle my seatbelt. I think her tires actually left black smudges on the street. I had nothing else to hold on to in the small space, so I clutched the seatbelt over my chest so hard my knuckles were white.

Suddenly a car pulled out into the lane in front of us. Aimi swerved to the right to avoid it, not even tapping the brake. She rolled down the window and shook her fist at the driver.

"Are you driving that piece of shit to the dump?" she shouted, then muttered, "Asshole," under her breath. I stared at her in utter shock. "What?" she asked, looking slightly defensive. "He deserved it." I swallowed hard and nodded, deciding that silence was the best option.

Fifteen minutes later, I found myself standing in front of my bathroom mirror. Aimi was standing behind me, poised with a pair of scissors. She was ruffling my hair with her other hand, pulling at my long strands.

"How does seven inches sound?" she suggested.

I willed myself not to panic. "I usually just trim it," I said quietly, nervously tapping my feet against the polished bathroom tiles.

"No, no, no. The point of a makeover is to completely transform you!" the blond shrilled. She noticed my hesitance. "Six?" she coaxed, and my face hadn't changed. Aimi pouted. "If you don't want to cut it, then let's do something else! You should go blonde!"

"I'm not dyeing my hair blonde," I argued, shrugging. "But I can go with one inch?"

"And the bangs!" Aimi retorted triumphantly. "That's just fair!"

"Alright then," I agreed weakly. My stomach churned.

She nodded eagerly as she began to snip away at my hair. "You're going to look great, trust me!"

I was pleasantly surprised at how it turned out in less than ten minutes. Aimi had given me layered bangs, and she had shortened my hair until it just swept past my collarbone.

"You like it?"

"Yes. Thanks," I told her truthfully, running my fingers through the bangs.

"No problem! It was fun!" Aimi chirped. "Now I wanna try this look on you, but first I need some bobby pins!" She reached for my bathroom cabinet and opened it. "There should be some of them in here somewhe—"

I quickly snapped and closed the cabinet. "Er, well, I don't think you need to… You know, I mean, I'm happy with the way my hair looks and… I'll go get ready now, okay?"

Aimi blinked her hazel eyes at me. "…Sure."

* * *

_When she woke up, ______Yuki pulled herself out of Killua's arms and inched away from him on the bed. He didn't appear to sense her desertion, but she carefully pulled the comforter up closer to his chin to equalize the decrease in body heat in the event of this changing. ______She crept across the bedroom and made it_ to the bathroom. 

_Yuki started brushing her teeth furiously, looking like a rabid dog with blue foam rather than the classic white with her toothbrush attractively sticking out of her mouth._

_"Hey."_

_Killua's low voice pulled her out of her thoughts, like a welcome breath of fresh air after a wipe-out. She rinsed her mouth and glanced at the bathroom door to see him, immediately feeling a smile creep onto her face. "Hey yourself," she replied. "Did you have a good rest?"_

_"Hell yeah," Killua drawled, blissfully smiling back. He lazily stretched out his arms. "I slept like a baby."_

_Yuki's brow twitched in amusement. "I know. You're drooling like one, too."_

_The white-haired boy froze for a few seconds, surprised, before swiping his hand violently across his jaw. "Oh," he grumbled.  
_

_Yuki laughed, feeling her mood lift. "It's actually quite endearing," she informed him lightly._

_"Oh, really?" Killua mused. Smiling, he __appeared over her shoulder in the mirror and wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his head on the niche of her shoulder.__ "_I'm_ endearing?"_

_"Yes, you are," she mumbled __and he grinned at her through the mirror, making her heart twist and leap in ways that would put ballet dancers to shame. "You know," Yuki muttered. "I should get ready for work."_

_"Okay," Killua said, as he tilted his head to leave little, modest pecks on her skin. He didn't move away though. "Have a good day."_

_ She gently tugged on his arms; in response, he tightened them against her. "You have to let me go."_

_"No," he said and she couldn't not smile. His gaze suddenly laid on the mirror and he frowned. "What's that?" he asked, referring to the orange bottle of medication over the sink.  
_

_"Nothing," Yuki answered, placing the bottle back inside the cabinet. __Killua's brows furrowed as in a way to ask 'You sure?'. "__It's nothing," Yuki confirmed, whirling around to face him. "You're supposed to go see Kurapika now, aren't you?"_

_ "Yeah, I should," he realized. "I have a lot of things to do."_

_"I'll see you tonight then."_

_"Yeah. Do me a favor?" he asked.  
_

_"You're too demanding for eight a.m," Yuki joked drowsily. He chuckled. "What do you want me to do?"_

_He bent down and kissed her on the cheek, his lips brushing her skin as he requested:_

_"Miss me."_

_Then he was gone. And the only thing more ridiculous than him asking her to miss him was how much she already did._

* * *

I sat in a chair in the surveillance room all alone, staring at the many monitors displaying the guests, checking for unfamiliar behavior or any sign of threat. Time passed strangely. I wasn't sure if it was the constant exposure to the faint blue glow of the monitors, or if it was my own mind playing tricks on me as a provoking mechanism.

I could feel myself slowly slipping into a state of unreality, in which I stared blankly at the screens with little or no thought. Under normal circumstances, that would have bothered me, but I let it slide, instead focusing on the third monitor that had flickered to life revealing a man followed by two bodyguards.

I zoomed in on his face, and remembered him from the six-hours study with Gon and Killua. The man was Aizawa's personal assistant who wanted to fulfill the dead man's will and get him the treasure he wanted from the auction, but now as I watched him from the screens, I could tell from the way he was shoving his men away and heading towards the bar to have a drink that what he wanted didn't really happen.

"Aizawa's assistant?" a monotone voice asked.

I turned my head slightly to see Killua standing a couple of feet away from my chair, looking intently at the screens. He looked completely different in a pair of charcoal black trousers and his white button down shirt with the top few buttons open, but no tie, because that was left undone around his shoulders. The sleeves were rolled up a bit, exposing his whip-marked forearms.

"Uh, yeah." I felt like I should say something else, but my brain was strange and clouded, so I just sat there silently.

"Did you get a new haircut?" His eyes burnt into mine, and the tingling in the pit of my stomach was back. I just nodded, but he didn't break his gaze. He just stared at me without blinking, his eyes holding mine like tractor beams, seeping all the heat from around the room and directing it to surround me and just _me_, goddammit.

He blinked, dropping his eyes from mine, and suddenly I could breathe and move again. "…I see," he said mysteriously, nonchalantly shifting his eyes back to the monitors.

His hands reached and began to knot the tie, his fingers moving easily and professionally. He didn't actually need a mirror. Hell, he wasn't even_ looking_ at the tie. With the corner of his eye, he noticed me gaping at him, and gave a little smirk. I decided not to say anything.

For a moment, we were united in our freakish normalcy. Our remarkable unremarkableness. It was almost comfortable between us, but only for a moment.

"Don't you have something else you want to do now better than just standing here?" I blurted out.

"Yeah, ask you a question," he said, pulling his tie down a little to give himself room to breathe. "Do I look okay?"

Maybe because I just wanted to shrug him off and shut him up, I answered with, "Yeah, gorgeous."

As I said that, I kept my eyes glided to the screens, rewinding the tapes and continuing my work, but when I noticed that Killua's silence had lasted for a whole thirty seconds, I turned my head back only to see him staring at me in shock. And despite the faint light in the room, I saw the flecks of color that formed high on his cheekbones. He looked twelve instead of seventeen with those rosy cheeks. I'd made him,_ him,_ the guy with the smirks and dirty jokes, blush.

As I peered at the screens again, I had to bite my lip from grinning like a fool. There was a ridiculous warmth bubbling up inside of me that made me squirm in irritation. "Anyway…" Abruptly, I changed the subject. "Do you think you can go make sure that Aizawa's assistant doesn't bash everyone because of his current drunk state?"

"Nah, I'll pass…" I could hear the smirk in his voice. I wasn't sure if it was because of what I said or something else. "I have something else to do."

"Fine, I'll do it," I sighed. I caught the hem of my dress as I stood up. As I moved to stand in front of him, Killua slowly took me in, preparing to form a reaction.

His features froze; he went very still, like a puppet with cut strings. His smirk faded, replaced by a venomous frown of disbelief as he looked me up and down. His eyes finally met mine, his face hardening as he said, "What are you almost wearing?"

I uncontrollably tugged at the hem once again. "What?"

"You're kidding, right? You can't possibly be serious about wearing this to the underground auction," Killua said in a gruff voice, almost tinged in anger.

I bristled. "Last time I checked, it's none of your business," I said flatly.

"It_ is_ my business! Did you look at yourself in the mirror?"

"No, it's not. And yes, I did. I'm allowed to dress like this since everyone in this place dresses like this."

"Oh, you're following the crowd now?" Killua sneered.

"Look," I hissed. _No provoking_, I reminded myself. _No provoking_. "It's not a good time. How about we do this—" I waved my hand between the small distance between us "—later?" I headed towards the door.

He caught my wrist to spin me around in front of him again. "You can't go like this. Not with the way you're dressed like someone you're not."

_Damn!_ Wait a minute – "What do you mean I _can't_ go? Since when you get to decide?" I exclaimed, alarmed by the way his muscles coiled and tensed in front of me.

"Since there are tons of old, pervy men downstairs who just want something to drool over!" Killua fired back at me. "I didn't realize you were into being such a slut. Can't have me, so you're just trying to get laid by random guys now?"

My jaw literally dropped, and I realized I was suddenly breathing hard, resisting the temptation to plunge my fist into the nearest wall. His words splashed over me like cold water. Just as soon as my breath returned, the anger I had been hiding behind a clenched jaw and fists broke free, flowing through to my arm in an incredible speed.

The contact of my palm against his pale cheek was hard enough to resound through the room, echoing softly off the walls.

I felt a sharp stinging pain in my eyes as he turned his head to look at me again, his eyebrows nearly disappeared beneath his white-colored bangs, his fingertips touching the dull red imprint that was now evident on his cheek. The look on his face mirrored hurt, and I'm sure I was wearing the intense version of it.

I thought things might be different. And you know what? They were. They were _worse_.

* * *

**A/N: **And the intensity perks up again.

To all of you guys who read, reviewed, PMed, favorated, alerted, whatever; it means a lot to me. I wrote this story on a whim, never expecting that it would be this much fun. Your reviews make me so giddy, I can't even tell you.

See you soon, but till then, share your thoughts? Drop me a line in a review and tell me. I'm looking forward to know what you have to say. Thank you for reading!


	29. Wolf Attacks

**I don't own Hunter X Hunter.**

* * *

_**30. Wolf Attacks**_

_And you don't see his shadow_  
_as it slithers and creeps._

_Now, he's cut through the forest to get there ahead._

_He's outrun and out-foxed you,_  
_and soon he'll be fed._  
_For he's lean and he's mean._  
_He's fierce and he's keen._  
_He's a hunter, a stalker, a killing machine._

* * *

_The lighting of the police cars, ambulances, and fire engines gave the scene a disco-dance-floor look—lit up with the glow of a floodlight and the red and blue strobe of the police cars. The police officer, dressed in his usual cop uniform, stood in front of the caution tape and gave a single grim glance at the girl inside one of the cars. She sat frozen in the driver's seat, wrapped up in one of the officer's large gray jacket, her small figure barely visible inside the vehicle, the lights played over her pale face, casting shadows that highlighted her delicate cheekbones and deep-set eyes that were too startlingly bright. The slim, childish build of her body did not match the old look in her eyes, or the deadly silence of her limbs._

_ "Detective," the officer called his partner in a smooth voice, indicating his gaze at the girl. With a nod, his partner gave him the cue to go. He slid under the caution tape, walked with rigid steps toward the car, and knelt down to her eye-level, but her gaze was glided upwards, looking but not looking at the balcony of her apartment. _

_"Hey," the man muttered softly, studying her face way too closely. "Your name's Yuki?" His voice was less lifeless, cheerful enough to make the girl's gaze flicker to look at him for a mere second, before it escaped to the building again. "I'm trying to find out who hurt your family," he said slowly, trying to get on her good side. "You think you can help me?" She still wouldn't look at him, just blinking owlishly. "Did anyone come to your room tonight?" he used that smooth tone once again. She looked at him. "Through the door? Through the window, maybe?" She left his stare again, causing his to break down. "Okay." Sighing, the officer got up and whirled around._

_"The Queen," the girl said, catching the officer's attention._

_He turned to her, frowning in confusion as he knelt in front of her again. "The Queen? What Queen?"_

_She just stared at him, saying nothing. _

_The faint murmurs of the officers were all she could hear from her spot. The fright in her features visibly decreased when she saw her uncle among the men, but she made no movement to run in his arms like she always did; she just remained in her seat, taking it as safe sanctuary. _

_ "…We also know that he was in her room tonight," the officer declared, and her uncle asked him how he could tell. "Blood drops. They fall in a certain way depending on the murderer's motion." She saw her uncle looking at her with worried eyes, murmuring something to the officer. "…Not at all. We didn't find any sign of abuse on her body. Apparently, he was not interested in hurting her," the officer answered. "And she…" he trailed off, looking at her. "She is not interested in telling on him."_

* * *

There's nothing like the auction guests' outlook on life. For them, every moment, every opportunity, every event is treated like their last, like life or death, like do or die. They're all like rebellious teenagers, dreaming as if they'd live forever, living as if they might perish the very next minute.

And because of that outlook, there's nothing quite like a guest's enthusiasm. Especially for that moment when their disarable treasure comes on the stage. This treasure represents the best and worst of the guest's entire night: the soaring expectations and the crippling rejections; the tender heart-skip of the first bet, the slight frown of the second bet, and the completely savage snarl after the third bet.

Arasawa-san was one of the auction's regular guests, most known as Kenji Aizawa's personal assistant and—as only few people knew—the late man's lifetime companion. Only for the past two weeks, Arasawa wasn't considered a participant in the auction, but more like Aizawa's favorite pet. Always standing next to his boss' right side, he was never the man to oppose, object or comment; he only watched from the sidelines, nodding his head and responding to commands.

But tonight was an exception, because tonight was the first display of Aizawa's famous, most wanted treasure which had unfortunately gained the attention of more than eight stubborn guests, and as a result, Arasawa's chances had been seriously diminished. Failure. Sadness. Wrath. Disappointment. Oh, so much disappointment. These were all the feelings the loser naturally got, and who had to suck them all in? Us.

"Yuki-san!" Arasawa shouted, approaching me with heavy, feeble and not entirely steady steps. The ice crackled on both sides of his glass. "I lost, Yuki-san! I haven't fulfilled Aizawa-sama's final wish!" he cried in remorse. "I… I had to get that cup. Because… that was… I needed to… He was… Aizawa-sama… My friend." He narrowed his eyes like he was about to cry.

"Sir, will you just sit down for a moment?" I tried to balance his weight on my shoulder but he just couldn't seem to stop wobbling.

"HE WAS MY FRIEND!" he shrieked angrily, then the tears finally ran down his face that was scrunched up and red from the alcohol. "Don't you get it? He… that was his final wish. B-but now… now I'm here and… useless." He managed to sit down, and despite the weakness in his muscles, his grip was still clutching at his glass. "My friend. He was my friend…" he kept repeating, shaking his head.

His body was trembling like a weakened corpse to a brush of frigid wind. Apparently, everything around him seemed to mock him in derision of failure.

"A-and now he's dead. Aizawa-sama is dead. They killed him. Even though… he shouldn't. Because it doesn't make sense." Arasawa frowned to himself, obviously lost in thought. Talking to himself was a sure sign the man was totally wasted.

"Sir, would you please let me know where your personal bodyguards are?"

"It doesn't make any sense, because—"

"Sir?"

"—they tried to warn him. Someone tried to warn him about going to the auction that night, but Aizawa-sama refused to listen, because—"

"Let me get you out of here."

"—he was always a stubborn man. He never listened to anyone. He never listened to _me_. Because I told him. I _did_ tell him, Yuki-san!" He grasped my hand between his stiff, firm fingers. All the warmth had hissed out of his words, yet they were still heated, full of hot air. "That Zaoldyeck was trying to help him. He tried to warn him, but… Aizawa-sama thought it was just another trick so he—"

This stopped me short. "Wait, what?" I supported the weeping man's body on the back of one of the couches. "What do you mean by 'That Zaoldyeck was trying to help him'?"

"Aizawa-sama received another note the day he was killed, and the form of the note looked so much like the first one he received few days ago. Aizawa-sama and I deduced that the note was probably sent by the same person, because both of the notes looked so much alike. The paper, the font, everything. But then… I tried to convince Aizawa-sama that the second note was totally contradicting the first one, because it held an obvious warning. I told him that the second person purposefully wanted the notes to look alike in order to reveal his true identity as a Zaoldyeck. Another Zaoldyeck."

"So Aizawa knew from the beginning that the blackmailer was a Zaoldyeck," I concluded.

"Yes. Both of the notes were signed by the same name. _Zaoldyeck_. Nonetheless, Aizawa-sama didn't want to reveal that, because he didn't want to believe it himself. He used to think that one of his countless enemies was trying to scare him off by doing that, even though I kept telling him that no one dares to counterfeit the Zaoldyeck's signature."

"What about the second person? Did Aizawa say anything about him?"

"Not much. That person made sure to mention in the note the words 'Do not go to the auction' and 'Find a safe place to hide.' Aizawa-sama believed that the first person was merely screwing with him, so he never took the second note seriously."

"…I see," I muttered, growing increasingly suspicious.

My mind was racing. Could this be a clear explanation to Killua's strange behavior that night? Was this a solid evidence that Killua was completely rebelling against his family? Then how come he never mentioned this before? How come he never tried to use this for his benefit? Did he forget? Did he think I wouldn't believe him? Was my mind too occupied with the truth about his identity to forget to mention the reason why he got himself in the police station in the first place? I was shaken out of my musings by one of Arasawa's personal bodyguards' voice, a look of complete disbelief crossing his face

Arasawa seemed to be in haze, unaware of his surroundings. They stumbled to steady the man as he struggled to stand straight after he successfully managed to fall down multiple of times. He cast a sad smile at me before murmuring, "I guess some people are just unlucky, Yuki-san. Some people just cannot avoid it, they only turn toward the path where the wolf comes from." He grunted as he limped toward the exist, rubbing his bum and wincing.

* * *

At the end of the night, I headed to my room, drained and exhausted from the convoluted rollercoaster in my mind. A chill ran through the air. The clouds were low and dense, viscous with rain. Lightning flashed, a stripe on the dark night sky, and its nemesis thunder answered, as if trying to set the tone for the monumental, stupendous event that was unfolding the city.

The window in the dimly lit hallway snapped open, startling me out of my thinking shell. Almost like a timed entrance, a gust of wind wrenched open the door of my room. I instantly got inside and fought to push the door closed, only to see an unexpected body inside the room, sitting on my bed. There he was. As the lightning flashed, illuminating him like a white-hot demon on the prowl, his eyes roved to stare at me.

_Demon?_

What was I thinking? Perhaps I now thought it was ludicrous because I had seen how very human Killua was. Behind his ethereal looks, he had scintillating smarts. Every stare of his eyes was matched in equal fervor by his ideas and opinions. His sophisticated, stylish self was made even more ideal by a less than perfect, corny sense of humor. To me, he had always been both the dream and the reality, the phenomenon and the ordinary, the myth and the guy.

We held each other's gaze for a moment and it said more than we ever could. After the hullabaloo that had been going on tonight, the weight of everything that happened after weighed down on us so much that we could barely hold a conversation.

"Did you—" _wait here for too long?_ I attempted but couldn't finish my sentence. Once again, our silence said more than our words.

"No, I just…" _got in._

"I thought we—" _agreed to never provoke each other._

"We did, but then…" _I acted like an idiot._

"That doesn't matter now—" _let's not talk about it__._

"It mattered to me."

However, with two people as stubborn as us, things needed to be said explicitly. Because while you think that was what our unspoken words should have been saying, it could just as easily be this:

"Did you—" _leave me any dessert after lunch?_

"No, I just…" _never thought you wanted some._

"I thought we—" _could have eaten it together._

"We did but then—" _you went to shower and I got hungry._

"That doesn't matter now—" _I still wanted dessert._

"It mattered to me."

Perhaps that's the nature of confessions. You say your piece—but not necessarily your peace—and leave it at that. Say too many words and they dilute the power of the ones you did speak. And so, each one of us waited the other to speak, but the silence wasn't a sparring or an uncomfortable one, we were just internally weighing the heavy words, perhaps not to get too worked up all over again.

But life was a blessing in disguise as it gave us a focal point, and a reason to face each other. Otherwise, we might have run away from one another and drowned in our '_should have-would have-could have_'s all night long.

I took off my heels and tossed them aside into a corner, casually walking to the bathroom to search for something to pull my hair up. I fumbled at first, the elastic tie barely held few strands of my new hair, so basically, the ponytail stuck straight up. But dang it.

As I stepped back into the room, Killua commented on my hair with one eyebrow raised, and I raised two, so he eventually cleared his throat and said, "So anyway…" he began. "I'm here to…" he waffled, scratching his nose. "I'm sorry that I called you—" he breathed in "—what I called you. I wasn't thinking. I was just—"

"It was you who tried to warn Aizawa, right?"

He frowned at me. I could have been mistaken, but a flicker of fear crossed his eyes. "How did _you_ know that?"

"His assistant told me about the second note," I answered.

Killua narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously. "Why are you so sure it was me?"

My eyes widened and I quickly tacked on, "Just a gut feeling." At this, he met my gaze head on, freezing my motions like a deer in two golden headlights, until I decided to deflect. "Why didn't you tell me about this?"

"If I did, would you have believed me?" he checked, but I replied with nothing, so he continued, "See, there was absolutely no point. I already told you that I'm no longer dealing with my family's business, but perhaps failed to mention that I'm also opposing them in one way or another." His next words were deliberate. "That night, I tried to stop Brother, but it didn't go well."

"What happened?" I asked, curiously.

"I'm not going to go into details. It just wasn't the best decision I made, and I'm sure you agree with me, too. I should have known better than to stand against Brother that night, because then I had all the odds working against me."

I hadn't realized what I said next until it was too late. "What if _they_ turned against you someday? Or tried to force you into being on their side?"

"It's not possible. They know that I'm in a different place right now." He sighed before continuing, "You see, the old-me was a complete jerk—" he caught me raising both my eyebrows at him "—no, I'm not kidding. Actually, now this is me being nice. The old-me didn't give a damn about people's feelings. I used to do whatever was for _my_ benefit, whatever I thought was suitable for _me_, without having to worry about a thing. I guess they've noticed that change." He leaned his body back, resting on his elbows. "Nonetheless… You looked nice tonight."

And there he went with the compliments again. The moment was light, but I weighed it down with his words and my thoughts so much that I had to blurt out, "What is your deal?"

"What?"

"The flirting… lately! After we… that truce… you're all… the way you look at me… and you came to my room… to tell me _that_… and beautiful tomato! What is going on with you?" I blurted any and every thought that crossed my mind until my mouth stopped moving.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak gibberish. Care to repeat that?" He was smiling slyly, and I knew he heard and understood exactly what I meant.

"Why have you been so weird lately?"

"How have I been weird?"

"How have you _not_ been weird? The flirting, the compliments, the secret smiles, for God sakes, _what was with the secret smiles_?" I cried, almost hysterical. I had a brief out-of-body moment where I could see this crazy-haired, wild-eyed girl shouting at this guy in front of her about smiling; I scared myself a little.

Killua smiled—of course—slightly evilly in my opinion, and said, "You liked the tomato thing, huh?" I huffed in frustration. His lightning-quick answers were provoking me even more. "What, you thought you could just get rid of me this easily? I'm not some random pump-and-dump chump, Yuki."

"What?"

He looked at me, amused. "I'm not just another huff, then scoff deal."

"_What_?"

"I'm not someone you can just use and lose."

"Oh my god!" I exclaimed. "Did you write these down or something?"

"No, I'm just a natural."

"A natural idiot," I muttered under my breath.

Killua laughed, just a small one, but it incited a jolt of fluttering in my animated heart. "Yeah, I would be an idiot for doing this," he admitted. "Ah, but see, that has its advantages." He tucked his hands in his pockets and walked towards me. "Or maybe I should say that _I_ have an advantage, because I know stuff about you that you don't know."

"Do tell."

"I know that you blink every time you tell a lie."

My eyebrows shot up. "I do _not_!"

"Ha, just blinked."

"I'm not lying!"

"Blinked again."

I pouted like a reprimanded child. "Alright, Mr. Expert, now what's your point?"

"Just to prove to you that your mind's telling you one thing but your body's telling you something else." His voice was like rolling boil of water, rumbling and low, just on the precipice of spilling over, and I felt like I was in a daze, as if someone had filled my lungs with something that wasn't quite air and my feet were planted on something that wasn't quite the ground. Mentally, I was adding that to the list of strange abilities Killua seemed to possess but I could feel the edges of the smog that blanketed my brain whenever he was near start to creep in.

"Why are you doing all of this?"

"Because…" he trailed off and his voice dropped from a laughing lilt to a serious but relaxed tone. "I want to be with you," he said easily before he moved to fall into the couch.

I blinked a few times, dazedly emerging from the moment, his words rendering the tenuous thread between us. Like the delayed feeling of relief when one catches oneself before falling, I heard the blood rush in my ears, my pulse pounding percussively. I was disoriented without his sure, steady gaze to anchor me, and my brain was awash in a sea of sensations. My heart dropped into my stomach, and one of these days, I'd stop being surprised that it didn't feel bad.

"What?" I asked, breathless from his breathtaking words. But more than his words, it was his expression: there was no trace of his usual sensuous smile or his usual amusement. Only his refined emerald gaze, unyielding and honest, connecting us and conducting an almost tangible electricity. He leaned his upper body back and let out a deep sigh, his head falling onto the back of the couch before he sat up straight again.

I could sense he had something to say but seemed, for the first time, to be holding back.

"I want to be with you. I'm gonna try to win you back in the next two weeks. But I didn't want to say anything because I knew you'd freak out but you…" He let out a frustrated smile. "But you couldn't pick up on the million of hints I've been dropping over the past hours, even after everything we'd been through. Instead, you chose to ask me. So now I had to say it. And now you're freaking out."

"I'm not." I absolutely was, and I knew he could tell, because my voice involuntarily went up in pitch. Then, way more timidly than I normally spoke, I continued, "Why would I be freaking out."

"Oh, really? Because you don't normally sound like a child on helium."

I managed to pull my foot out of my mouth and said, "I'm trying to have a serious conversation here!"

"And I'm trying to avoid a serious conversation. The more serious we are about this, the more likely you are to absolutely shoot me down and shut me out," he said, equally as earnest. "I'm not going to let that happen."

I made a face. "Are all the Zaoldyecks this obnoxious?"

"Why do you always try to segue from our conversation into the possibility that all the Zaoldyecks are the same?"

"Seriously—"

"Told you I wasn't doing serious, Yuki."

"Listen to me, you—"

"When has whining gotten you anywhere with me?"

Suddenly, I could see my future in snatches: A brief period of time with one guy that ruined all my relationships with people—even myself—for the rest of my life; I would watch ballet shows without actually dancing; I would eat lots of cheese; I would get cats. Eventually, even if they left, but I would still smell like them, so I would become an old, cheese-eating cat lady anyway. Without the cats.

I thought I might be losing my mind, so I forced myself out of my own thoughts just in time to see Killua smiling down at me. "You're not ready to talk about this," he told me. I wanted to argue—probably because it'd been my first instinct to argue with him, but I couldn't, because he added, "Yet." Then he smirked. "Don't worry. I'll wear you down. Win you over."

"Oh, yeah?" I challenged. He'd always been too cocky.

"Yes. When you've finally gotten over your issues—"

"I do not have issues!"

"You definitely do, and when you've gotten over them and we're back together, you'll thank me."

I glared at him. "For fighting with me?"

"For fighting _for_ you," he corrected.

"You could be wrong about this, you know."

"I'm not."

"I'm just saying you _could_ be."

"Yeah, I guess I _could_ be," he agreed and then continued, "except for the part where I'm _not_." Part of me was a little irritated at his insistence that this was going to happen, but the other part was unrecognized to me yet, unrevealed and unknown, as if— "When you know, you know," Killua said mysteriously, interrupting my thoughts.

"What do you know?"

"Oh, I think you know what I know."

"Wouldn't I know if I knew what you know?" I asked, frowning.

"I think you know what I know, you just don't know _you_ know."

"Huh?"

"You know I know that you know that I know that you know."

"_Huh_?"

Killua grinned and shrugged. "I have no idea. I just started saying stuff to mess with you."

I touched my palm to my forehead and escaped his stare.

"Hey," he called quietly, almost touched my hand but instantly realized he shouldn't. "If it makes you feel better, just forget about everything I said." Our eyes met and perhaps for the first time, I _really_ looked at him. And in his eyes, I saw pictures of pretty promises and promising potential paths. But I had to look away. My heart was flipping correspondingly, and I wished my mind was as at ease with all this as the rest of me seemed to be. All of a sudden, I felt terrible about the way I was handling everything. I must be giving him so many mixed signals, so much confusion—

"Yuki, _stop it_," he ordered.

My eyes were wide when I looked at him. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

"I know you. Stop over thinking everything. Let it play out. The only way this'll work is if you go with whatever you feel." He nodded. "And that's as serious as I'm going to get about this," he clarified, breaking into a grin. "That's as serious as I'm going to let _you_ get."

I sighed in exasperation. "Fine," I replied, my outward skepticism betraying my inner reaction. To get him out of my way, I extended my fist to pound his shoulder, but he caught it in the right time, drawing his body close to mine, one of my arms pinned between us, my other hand held down by him, and it all felt very, _very_ wrong.

"Why does this seem so familiar?" he said, his voice low and smooth.

I rolled my eyes but inside, I was quaking with a million different feelings, because this was bringing back memories I was not intending on repeating them again.

Images were dancing in my mind. Not dancing—_writhing_ and _twisting_ through my mind. A delirious haze settled over me, and I could feel a tug to something in the back of my mind, something that kept niggling for my attention. But everything was in a foggy fugue—except for the perfectly freezing look of his stare, and how I was falling hopelessly under his spell.

He got very quiet and very still. "You want more evidence I've changed?" he asked, his eyes roaming over just above my chin. "The old-me would totally be kissing you right now." He licked his lips and abruptly, unceremoniously, his expression turned devious, devilish, dangerous, and—dare I say it—demonic. And with a sudden sneer, he moved toward me and my sleepy stupor swiftly turned into a noxious nightmare, a hellacious hallucination. Then, almost like a murmur, I heard his words. "And you should understand that old-me wants to kick new-me in the guts right now for not kissing you."

A blood-curdling bang of thunder bellowed with a sudden, severe crack. I was shaken out of my subconscious as its reverberations roared through the building, shaking the foundations in its boots. But I was still hovering on the precipice between conscious and not, my mind not thinking lucidly yet but still ludicrously.

I managed to keep on a straight face as I said, "I'm grateful that new-you is being careful."

The impending storm stirred, thunder rife to rise, lightning set to shine. One way or another, he had found me and he was going to get me, _get me_, yet I still felt woozy, weakened, now even more from the realization that all this time, I had only been seeing half the picture. He wasn't just the snake charmer, making me dance to his tune. His strength was the siren song he sang to control. But he was also the snake itself, the weapon, the venom.

Martial, mean lightning shined as he smiled when he saw me back away to sit up on the bed and started to move toward me. Immediately, I shot up off the bed and away from him.

"Yuki?" He said my name slowly, smoothly, like a song, and his voice only made my head feel more light. Why was he doing this to me? More importantly, _how_? Was there some sort of power he had that slowly cut off each sense until resistance, survival became futile?

I didn't even recognize my own voice or comprehend the words I was saying when they came out. "P-please stay away from me." Thunder roared back in retaliation.

"What do—" But I was nearing hysteria and couldn't be coddled.

"No! I don't know who you are or what you're doing to me, but I'm not going to let you do that… thing you do!"

"What? You know who I am, I—"

"You're sure as hell not my Killua from before!" I tried to yell, but my words came out a hoarse, stuttered _sotto voce_. Killua took one lithe, liquid step forward, and I backed into a desk, causing a cacophony as it scraped against the floor. There was only one light on in the corner of the room, causing shadows to ghost all around, save for the split seconds when the lightning illuminated everything in a white, angry flash.

"I'm not _your_ Killua?" His voice was low and quiet, full of potential power, like the rev of a Ferrari. He took one step forward, eyes hooded, smile slightly twisted. He raised his hands as if trying to soothe a savage beast. "Tell me, Yu-ki," he split my name into two sinister, distinct syllables, "who am I?"

I clumsily backed up farther, knocking more items on my way, unable to look away from his magnetic gaze. "Y-you're Killua Zaoldyeck now!" My voice squeaked in exasperation. "It's not who you are…it's, it's what you are," I sputtered with the heated fury of a hot air balloon. I couldn't stand still, my nervousness and fear seeping out of me in the way I wrung my hands and bit my lip. Killua's sizzling, scintillating gaze narrowed on my mouth again.

"Alright then, I'm gonna ask this again…_what_ am I?" I swallowed audibly and visibly, trying to tamp down the mélange of emotions running through me. I was scared, yet I couldn't say that the twist in my stomach was completely from fear.

"I don't know what you are!" I accused, words making sense in my mind but not out loud. Killua arched a white eyebrow. "But you're…. you're not… you're not…" I paused, struggling to find the right word; my paranoia was taking the best of me. "…normal!" I said it with gusto and then deflated, realizing that the term was neither derogatory nor threatening—the two sentiments I'd been aiming for.

"I'm not normal? Well, I've certainly been called worse," he said, the amusement in his words almost melodic. The left side of his smirk tilted up, and I found myself desperately in need to make it go away.

Was this his power? That he infiltrated minds and placed ideas of actions so damned dispersed, thoughts so downright tempting that they were impossible not to act on? He was doing it right now, to me.

"What exactly are you accusing me of, Yuki?" he said, almost playfully. I realized I was breathing hard, panting almost, and all of a sudden, I felt out of control. He took a step toward me. "Are you losing your mind?"

Oh god. He was going to do that again; affect me with the inexplicable aura of his. And while the idea was accompanied by an incomprehensible amount of fear, I couldn't deny that there was some sort of excitement, an adrenaline rush, that accompanied it. I wondered why the idea was neither as terrifying nor as demeaning as I felt it should be. Maybe it was because there was an inherent compliment when a guy gives you this kind of intense attention. Maybe it was because I could finally know what all the fuss was about. Maybe, a part of my brain raged, this was all part of his power, that he could not only control it but could also make you like it.

"I don't know what you're doing to me, but it can't be normal! I mean, it's like I have no control over what I do around you! Or everyone around you! Like they can't resist you, like you have some power over them—"

It was like I was having an out-of-body experience, my surroundings darkening as though ink was seeping onto the page of my imagination. I felt strangely detached from my own body and then I realized Killua was smirking.

"You can't resist me?" His voice was like quicksilver and quicksand, enticing and entrapping.

_Oh. God._

"I saw how Aimi and others look at you! They look different and act strange and they're always smooth and careful around you and it's not…human!" I said the words intensely fast but with a determination I hadn't felt before. "_You're_ not human!" I had just told him the most ludicrous, ridiculous idea I had ever had, but I couldn't fathom why I even thought of it. Was I trying to interpret his effect on me by accusing him of being someon_—something_ supernatural?

Killua was no longer smirking. "You think I'm sort of a… controlling, manipulative… boogeyman?" he asked. For the first time, there was doubt in his tone and what sounded like a hint of irritation. As he looked down at me, his build felt too architectural, too powerful, like a dominating, eyesore skyscraper—and I was standing in his shadow.

A tiny wrinkle appeared above his nose, between his eyebrows, in the beginnings of a frown before he smoothed his expression into his default smolder. Lightning flashed once more, like a spark, causing shadows on his face that made him look menacing and malicious.

"You're… you're accusing me of being a demon that controls people based on a thought your disconcerted mind had just created? That's what you think this whole thing is?" Killua looked somewhere between the realm of outraged and incredulous, brows furrowed, eyes flashing and mouth set in a straight, determined line, looking at me with a stewing storm in his eyes to match the one outside. "What made you think that?" This time, his words were punctuated with an angry impatience. His emerald eyes were no longer shining, but muted; the glow was gone.

I moved my mouth a couple of times but couldn't formulate an answer. In reality, I hadn't really known what I was saying.

"I told you," I said nervously. I felt like I was walking along a trembling, tenuous tight rope and each word I spoke was only weighing me down more. It could be only a matter of minutes before the rope snapped.

Killua jutted his chin at me and said, with a cold detachment in his voice, "Tell me again, then. List the reasons."

"Y-your skin! It's full of scars and doesn't have so much as a birthmark on it except for—"

"Oh, I have a birthmark," he interrupted blithely, lissome fingers undoing a button of his shirt. He cocked his head to the side and pulled his collar, revealing an expanse of smooth skin from his neck to the edge of his shoulder, where a small, brown dot rested in the hollow of his collarbone. "See?"

"Oh. Well…um, there's—" Suddenly, all the reasons, the insubstantial, pieces of evidence were slipping from my mind. "You have wolf-claws!"

"I've trained myself to get them. That's your reason?" Killua asked archly. I'd never heard his tone like this—normally, it was molten, hot and flowing. It was still smooth now, but with an icy chill that caused a shiver in my veins.

"You have two new cuts on the back of your neck—as if someone… some_thing_ bit you."

"I cut myself the other night."

"Twice?"

"I was mad."

"About what?"

"Getting almost shot by you."

"Oh. _Oh!_ Well, also, you… you…" I faltered. I was having trouble expressing my fragmented reasoning, and so I rambled. "It… It's you… You and your family. You are like shadows; not actual or real. Like reflections that appear in a mirror. Although such reflections appear, they have no real substance to them. They are just reflected images that have come about through transformation. That's all anyone knows about you, and has ever known. Rumors say you exist but no one has ever seen you. You're like a Chinese whisper, a broken legend… That's what you are! To most of people, you are legends! Legends, myths, works of fiction! T-there are stories, books, shows, and even movies about you! Normally, you don't expect legends to be normal, because they are no longer judged according to ordinary human laws or—"

I was shocked as Killua clamped a hand over my mouth to stop my riotous rigmarole. I was even more stupefied when he let out a gust of a sigh, released my mouth, then he led my bumbling and dumbfounded body to sit on the bed.

"Sit down and calm down." His gaze was so strong, his instruction so authoritative, that I couldn't help but do as he said. "Let's take a trip down memory lane to that time, where I used to be perfectly normal in your eyes. Did it all change because you knew that extra information about me? How come your suspicions never showed before now?" he said, voice rolling and rumbling like the thunder beyond the horizon. "Let's fast forward a few days, to, oh, right around now. Now you accuse me of being… what was it? Oh, that's right. A _demon_." This was a voice of him I had never heard, hard with discontent, slick with rage, brittle under heavy emotion.

And then it dawned on me. In a montage of crazy conjectures and hysterical hypotheses, I realized that it was all my asinine assumptions and downright dumb deductions. "I… What was I supposed to think? I've never met a Zaoldyeck before!"

"You've never met _people_ before?" Killua said dryly. I bristled at the callous condescension in his tone.

"So… there's nothing… _inhuman_ about—"

"Of course not!" he exploded, just as a flash of lightning hit. Underscoring his anger, thunder quickly followed. The rain pounded against the glass and I no longer felt unsafe, just very small. In the infinite imagination I possessed, I had woven an epic horror story, but hey, could the situation expect any less?

He came to kneel in front of my knees on the floor, supporting his weight over one of his legs, looking up at me under his eyelashes. His eyes were arresting, holding me captive, sparking and sparkling. "How could you think that after everything we've been through?"

My voice had dropped out of my throat. My heart, which had been beating furiously under the strain and stress of the situation, began slowing. Outside, the rain was abating, too—instead of pounding against the windows, fat drops were falling like tears, sounding hollow and empty on the glass.

I focused my gaze on my wriggling hands as I said, "I… don't… know?"

Killua smirked, looking like his old self for a moment. "You're _asking_ me?" I looked away and he lowered his gaze with a genuine smile. "The uncertain look isn't your best. I'm probably getting used to being called with different names by you. Which, by the way, are still much more preferable to being mistaken for a soulless, conscienceless _demon_."

I huffed, rolling my eyes. "Geez, you have a temper."

Killua closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. "I do have a temper, Yuki. I'm not perfect. I get angry and I have a right to. Just so it's been said explicitly—I'm human. I get angry, not often, but I do."

"You know I never used the word 'demon'." I muttered.

"But that's what you implied. Yet again you're saying things and you're not getting that someone is listening. I don't just hear what you say. I _listen_ to you. I told you before, I get you. But you're still not listening to me," he said quietly. The words hung in the air like the heavy rainclouds of the night, casting gray, dreary shadows. "I don't need anything right now. Just the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, I haven't screwed things up beyond repair. I know I've made mistakes, and I know all of them are a little hard to get past, but I—"

"No, stop," I cut off as I left the mattress, moving to slide the window open, allowing the damp air and the smell of the rain to seep through the room. Staring down, all I could catch sight of was the awfully enormous number of the colorful umbrellas, as they moved and swayed with the wind carrying their holders along the drenched streets of York Shin.

"No, talk to me."

I turned around and did just that. "I'm not doing this because you're a Zaoldyeck, Killua. I thought that was the reason, but it's not. I'm not mad at you because you were the assassin that killed my family. I can't be mad at you. You were nine and it wasn't your choice."

Killua looked confused. "Then why are you doing this?"

"Because you hid something like this from me! Because I thought we were friends! Because you tricked me and I trusted you! Because you turned out to be a whole another person that I didn't know." I paused, staring him deep in the eyes. "You made me fall for you."

"You tried to put a bullet in my chest," he countered.

"I know! What you did was SO much worse!"

He sighed, rubbing his temples with his hand. "I couldn't tell you, Yuki. I told you I couldn't. It's not something that was so easy."

"You should have tried to tell me every damn day!" Breathing deeply, I ran both hands in my hair. "I'm such a mess tonight, I practically accused you of being a demon. I'm not afraid of you being a Zaoldyeck. I'm just afraid of what I don't know about you. And I just… I'm a mess," I said again, turning to face the window. "I'm not ready to have this conversation right now, so please just—" I whirled around quickly only to see that Killua was now standing right before me, looking down at me with those brooding eyes of his.

I felt consciousness rush in and out of me, like a tide crashing on the beach. What I didn't realize was that, like the tide, I too was swaying on my feet. But before I gave into gravity and fell, he stepped closer.

"Can I?" he murmured. His arm reached further down and took my left hand in his right one before twisting them to rest on his chest. His palm was incredibly warm—not hot, not sweaty—but uniformly warm, despite the fact that he wore no gloves and it was freezing outside. With the warmth came a gentle tingle, like the phantom feeling when a limb is beginning to fall asleep.

The storm had ceased outside but now raged between the two of us.

When he spoke again, his voice was a thoroughly trademark mix of strong, soft and sweet. "Just hear me out…"

"No…" I started shaking my head. I was already a little dizzy since the beginning of our conversation, and his proximity didn't help.

"Doesn't this remind you of the promise you made on the dance floor? Back before you believed that I became a different person—"

"No…" I whispered again, my voice sounded all weird and shaky, like I'd swallowed a bunch of pop rocks but they were stuck in my throat.

"—I don't understand why you attempt to separate these two parts of me. Nothing has changed. I'm _still_ that boy. And you're still the one I'm real around, the one I'm _me_ around."

_Leaning in._

"What are you doing?" I didn't know why I asked. As he lowered his face to mine, I knew exactly what he was doing, yet everything felt like it was shrouded in a muddling haze of befuddlement. His words lolled around my brain, bobbing above and under the surface of understanding until they finally sank away as he placed his other hand on my cheek, titling my face to his. The warm weight of his palm felt foreign now, almost formless like he was somehow touching me yet not at the same time. The touch felt like falling, disorienting, flipping the whole world upside down.

_Leaning closer._

"Let me prove it," he was saying, words glossy and glassy, gliding through me. His mouth was millimeters away, yet I couldn't feel the force of his breath. With every passing moment, I fell a little deeper, collapsing in on myself a little more. My spine started to feel less solid, my knees less strong, because that was just the magic.

It was not the type of magic between two people—the sparks and stuttering hearts and the heat. It was not type of magic in a smile between strangers, linked in a moment by their one simple action. It was not the magic of the lonesome moment, where a sinking sunset or a beautiful vista births intangible dreams and indescribable feeling.

It was that magic that none of us are quite sure exists. The magic that goes bump in the night. The magic that gives you goose bumps and prickles on the back of your neck. The magic that keeps your nightlight lit well past childhood. Not magic, but Magic.

It's a debated, nebulous idea, this Magic.

I had to say something.

I had to say something now.

"I—" I began, my hand poised against his chest to halt his advance. But before I could speak, before I could splay my palm against that crisp, white shirt, all hell broke loose.

From somewhere behind us, the shouting began.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, I'm such a cliffhanger freak.

But the good thing is, you can tell me how bad I suck in a review? Go ahead, any attention is good attention. In all honesty, waiting for reviews is what makes the process of updating last longer. No, I'm not trying to bribe you, really. Or maybe I am? So review, folks. I'll repeat: You can leave reviews on any chapter, no login required, and there's no need to finish reading it all before you start reviewing chapters - but do please leave at most _one _review. Trust me; reviews are like candy to authors. It doesn't take much to get the author sugar-high.

\ /

\ /

\/


	30. Captured by Chaos

_**Okay I can explain (no I really can't.) It's been forever and I must apologize. Life has been nuts like I'm sure all of you can agree with, but I hope I never have to wait that long to update again! As a sign of my cowardice, I will present Jei to refresh your memory and give a recap.  
**_

**Jei**: (enters, gives the author a pained look) Do I have to wear this? Ugh, fine. So right, previously on The Lost Night, there were these two people, Killua and Yuki that liked each other since they were kids, met again to develop these damned feelings, but Killua hid a pretty huge, painful, climatic secret and didn't do anything about it for days (sighs) and some people got happy, angry, happy again, shocked, arrested, insane, and as frustrated as the day is long. There's been love and loss and hide-and-seek games and fancy weddings and angst, yeah, there's been loads of angst. We have clueless girls, determined boys, cheerful friends, evil stalking brothers, wankers of auction guests and apparently the happiest bloody girl on Earth, Aimi. Oh yeah, and there's been a lot of failed chances to solve yesterday's issues, but that's the usual around here. The couple's 'moment' has been interrupted in the previous chapter (pauses because of deafening boo's) by a mysterious cry that you're going to find out more about—so er, enjoy then and please don't kill Lyra Klaude for not updating in MONTHS (glares at the author). Cheers.

* * *

_**31. Captured by Chaos  
**_

* * *

___**05:34…**_

___**Six Hours Later… **  
_

___Erratic, panicked footsteps echoed through the awfully white walls, clicking against the awfully white floor. Although distant, the clicks seemed to hover effortlessly about the floor, and this did nothing to comfort him. The hallway was like a maze; he was in a tiny daze, the walls, the ceiling, and the floor were __blurring in his vision, a cold chill bolting through his body, a maddening hysteria overtaking him._

_____The aftermath was so surreal.  
_

___Winded, he was sitting limply on the floor, back leaned against the wall, staring into nothing. The only movement he felt was that of blood, flooding soundlessly from his clothes to the floor, turning it henceforth red. ____The wretched scent was everywhere. ____A warm flow of crimson erupted, leaking out of him like a faucet that couldn't be shut off. It wasn't his blood. He didn't have but a few scratches on his face and a wound on his leg. He barely registered the fact that someone had said his name and was yelling at him now._

___"Killua!"_

___His half-lidded eyes slowly looked up. There was a growing hoarseness in his voice. "Gon…?"_

___Gon gazed down at the blood on his friend's hands and at the deep crimson stains on his clothes. "What happened?" he wondered, panic-stricken.  
_

_Killua blinked. How could he speak when he didn't have the words: the words, the word, the single word resonated. Resonated until it divided and multiplied. Unfair. Hurt. Blank. Damned stream of consciousness, damned tongue twister of life. What could he say when there was nothing left but nonsense and empty words? Nothing there._

_The aftermath was so heavy.  
_

_He was so angry. He could explode, knew he could, wished he would. It would be so easy, so easy to explode. All the pressure would be released in one fiery iridescent explosion. He wanted to rage and smash things, but the pain… the illogical heartache kept him curled on the floor, fighting screams, trying to ignore the sick rolling in his stomach and the insistent slamming in his head.  
_

_It hurt like hell._

_During his whole life he'd heard people throw around the term 'heartache,' but he never truly understood what it meant until now. He never understood the possibility that an emotion, something that had no mass or form was able to wrap around people's hearts like a python and squeeze, squeeze, and squeeze until every valve and chamber ached. Until the blood itself, which had no feeling at all, pulled barbed wire through people's arteries with every broken beat. _

_It shouldn't be possible._

_Life ‒ what a cute, hypocritical little charade. This he knew, but the truth did not help; there was nothing he could do. __The blatant truth mocked his helplessness._

_The aftermath was so severe._

_He tried to find hope, but the blood was there to remind him, to crash every brink of sanity.  
_

_It was like trying to fly… when you know you were already falling._

* * *

**_23:45…_  
**

**Killua's PoV**

"Who is it?"

"A nuisance."

The cops, in ultramarine-colored suits marked with a silver 'F', stared down in stern rebuke at the smirking intruder standing across the second floor's window. Forty-three of these cops had their fists pointed at him, but to no avail. His smirk never left his face, not even the fact that each of them was holding a .44 Magnum, one of the most powerful handguns in the world – which could blow anyone's head clean off – could be of any effect.

It was not the young intruder's impressive nerve, not his shabby, gray beanie that hung over his stupid blond head, not the prominent, knotty, misshapen scar that ran down the length of his right cheek, not even the neck-knife his hand held that caused this tremendous tumult inside the whole building; it was where the neck-knife was pointing at.

Jei's throat.

If he had, in any particular ethical system, damned himself, he clearly thought quite highly of himself for having done so.

Standing amidst the crowd of personal bodyguards was a concerned wealthy figure, a dim-gray-haired middle-aged man in an elegant suit of unmatchable quality with a relevant position in the Mafia Community, the one and only, Light Nostrad. He stubbornly insisted that he would be personally involved in persuading the beanie guy to let go of Jei, leaving Kurapika and the rest of us eavesdropping behind a bulletproofed glass door. Though we were rather just watching the whole scene, since the glass door happened to be soundproofed, too.

I focused on reading the lips.

Nostrad's face seemed to have aged decades over the course of seconds. He appeared awfully concerned about Jei's life, though it was unclear how much sincere affection he had for him or merely the value he placed over his mind-reading ability. "Please," he begged, extending his arms before him and before the beanie guy as if the latter would simply throw Jei's body right at Nostrad's hands. "I'll give you anything. Let the boy go, please. Please, sir."

"'Sir'?" Beanie Guy scoffed. "Do I look like a '_sir_' to you?" He pressed Jei's back further into his chest, keeping his knife in place. Jei's face twisted in disgust.

Nostrad's face twisted in agony.

"I don't understand," Yuki said from somewhere behind me, barely controlling the agitation beneath her skin. "How come the surveillance cameras never caught his intrusion?"

"It's because someone wrecked the surveillance room before that boy showed up," Kurapika answered, sounding a little distracted. "It's quite a mess right now. Every screen is damaged beyond repair."

Yuki gave him a surprised and worried look. "B-but that's impossible! After making sure that Arasawa was out of the building, I followed your orders and got back to the surveillance room and I stayed there for three hours until my shift was over. I am perfectly sure that I locked it before heading to my room."

Kurapika said something through his handheld transceiver, his eyes never leaving the scene behind the glass door. His face was white as chalk when he replied in that same colorless voice, "Would it be possible that you simply forgot the key somewhere?"

Yuki's face had crumpled. "Wh–what d'ya mean '_forgot_'?" The words burst out of her mouth, as she shoved herself forward, an instant before my hand clamped down hard upon her shoulder. She ignored it. "I'm not that clumsy." Kurapika gave her a look. "Alright, I'm sometimes that clumsy. But I _did_ lock the door and put the key right in my pocket!" she retorted defensively. Her hand reached inside her dress pocket. Her lips shaped the words, _Oh no_, but no sound came out.

Gon's head popped over her shoulder. "What is it?" he asked, blinking.

"T-that's impossible," she whispered in a tiny voice. "My pocket is torn." She tucked her hand in the dress again, but her fingers passed and emerged through her pierced pocket.

"Isn't that a new dress?" I guessed.

"Yeah," she said acerbically. Her brows furrowed in thought. "It's strange."

"_STOP HIM!_"

"_DON'T MOVE!_"

Roars and growls resounded from Kurapika's walkie-talkie. Every single pair of eyes gazed through the glass door as the guy's neck-knife firmly pressed against Jei's neck, nearly choking him and crushing his windpipe. Not in my mind now, but in true reality, the light in the corridor had dimmed, the temperature had fallen. The fear thundered over and around everyone like a sea whipped by hurricane winds, and the sucking emptiness had become a howling draw toward some approaching black hole.

The view was about to change.

The cops' hands tensed further around their guns, their nostrils widened and narrowed like the nostrils of a blooded horse. The apprehension was plain to see on each face. It was reasonable; lawful. On the other hand, the beanie guy's behavior was not making any sense, at least for me. He did not follow the patterns I'd set for him, the inevitable patterns every kidnapper/thief use.

Take it or leave it.

But in this case, instead of that, it was: 'Take it or leave _with_ it.' He could either kill Jei right there, bargain over his life, if supposedly that was his essential aim, to threaten Nostrad's business position, or he could simply go on with the thread until he was safely out of the window which was only few feet away. But the guy we were dealing with here had no intention to runaway or move things any further, as if he was waiting for something to happen.

I suddenly frowned. _Wait a minute…_

"Hey," I called out, pointing at somewhere behind the glass door. Kurapika looked at me. "What's with the—"

"You mean the window?" he interrupted calmly. "Yeah, I've noticed that, too."

"What's with the window?" Gon said.

"What's going on?" Yuki seconded, looking between Kurapika and I.

"Well," I said, pointing again at the window behind the guy and Jei. "This is a normal casement window which can only be used interiorly, which means that lock-picking is not an option, so in order to get inside, the window has to be broken, but as you can see, it's perfectly fine."

"Why are you so sure he's gotten through _this_ window?" Gon asked.

"The security guards of the second floor are twelve in number, and every two hours, the disposition of the guards changes," Kurapika answered. "Which means that this guy knew exactly that during this time, this window would be his perfect place because the security guards would be centered in different places. He probably knew that Jei waits Nostrad-san here every night during this time, too."

"So you're saying that this guy already knew that this window would be opened for him," Yuki concluded. "Do you think someone from inside the building opened it for him?"

"He only had few seconds to sneak in, find Jei and get him before the guards noticed him, so it's rather impossible that he and the one who wrecked the surveillance room are the same person," I said.

"That guy must have opened the window for his partner after he finished ruining the surveillance room," Kurapika added. "Otherwise I would have spotted him."

I crossed my arms, frowning. "Yeah."

"Hold on a second," Yuki said irritably, staring at the window in confusion. "The lock beneath the left lever handle indicates that the left door of the window is locked. Why would he lock it again when he had no time to spare?"

"From the way he's holding the knife, the guy is clearly right-handed, and because his partner knew that, he only unlocked the right door of the window, so it's easier for him to climb his way," Kurapika said before he side-glanced at Yuki. "How come you couldn't think of that, Yuki?"

Yuki shrugged. "Because… I'm normal!"

I snickered at that. Dammit.

"I'm sorry, do I amuse you?" she asked me with a sour edge in her voice. She was like a sleeping dragon—too fun and fiery for me to leave alone.

I turned to give her a bored look. "If you mean that in the sense that clowns amuse people at the circus, then no."

"How can you still make jokes when our friend will possibly become headless in a matter of seconds?" she retorted.

"He's _your_ friend. Not mine."

"So you just don't care if he dies." She looked at me like I had an extra head.

"I didn't say that—"

"That's enough," Kurapika admonished. He was possibly thinking that life would be so simple if we actually acted like adults instead of bickering like alpha dogs or, worse, children. "It's time to put an end to this," he decided in a calm, professional voice. "They are not handling it very well out there. Nostrad-san started complaining. Can you do this, Yuki?"

My muscles abruptly tensed. "What?" He was not serious.

Yuki snorted daintily. "You're totally punishing me for what happened to the surveillance room."

"No," said Kurapika, turning his head to give her a serious look. "Nostrad-san needed some of the bodyguards to escort Neon-san in her trip, because her safety is a priority. He probably didn't consider that something like this might occur. That guy is not a Nen user, but any movement from his hand will be crucial. Do you think you can handle him?"

"Should be fun." Yuki's eyes connected with his as she gave him a sly, knowing smile. "Wait for the sign," she told him before sliding the glass door open and stepping outside. Kurapika reached out and shut the door once again, enclosing us in silence. I held my breath and watched her from a distance.

She was not armed. Though my body was calmer, my head was racing through all the possibilities surrounding this fact. I opened my mouth, then closed it again with a feeling of complete helplessness that didn't escape Kurapika's notice.

"Relax. She knows what she's doing," he reassured. Part of me wanted to argue with him, but now wasn't really the time, because Yuki had just approached Beanie Guy and Jei cautiously. I forced myself into a calmer stance.

"I don't have your confidence," I replied, my tone clipped.

"This is my territory," he said, his own tone menacingly quiet, his eyes stuck on the scene before us. He regarded the knife-holding guy with an ill-disguised disgust. "This thief can't defeat me in my territory. I control this place, this chessboard is all mine, Killua, I don't only control the white pieces, but also the black ones. If this guy tries to take what's not his," he trailed off, his voice a blistering cold shard of ice. "I'm going to play an integral part in his degradation."

I was back to reading the lips.

Yuki's movement ceased and her back was facing us, and even if she was speaking, I could not tell. Beanie Guy brightened, looking at Yuki like she was an exhibit in a freak show, mumbling something that I couldn't understand, followed by what must have sounded like a disturbing laugh that only fed my anxiety.

Jei's eyes lit. "Where have you been all this time? It's way past my bedtime," he pouted. The guy behind him tangled his fist in his hair, pulling his head back to face him. He was not pleased.

"My, my, you'll be fun to break," he hissed in Jei's ear, who rolled his eyes in response.

Yuki stood there, not moving a muscle, seemingly unaffected, looking fairly small among all these huge, suited men. She looked fragile – too pale, too skinny, too scruffy, uncoordinated. I knew she was stronger that I gave her credit for, but weaker than she thought she was. Her overconfidence would be her undoing. What was Kurapika thinking?

The view was still the same. I wanted to hear. My curiosity was nearly crippling. From the way Yuki's head moved, I assumed she was speaking to him, but I had no idea about what. Judging from the beanie guy's reaction, he looked shaken and most definitely stirred.

"Guns down," Kurapika ordered coldly through his transceiver.

For an instant, the battlefield stood still, the cops lowered their hands tentatively, everything halted except Beanie Guy's constant blinking. His hand slid the blade lightly over Jei's throat, causing a perfect line of red to well up bright.

The tension was getting thicker by the second—forget a knife; it would take a machete to hack through this.

For the first time in a while, I was completely out of the picture, wasn't involved entirely in what she was doing. I had no control of what was happening or the consequences. I was watching and observing from the sidelines.

It felt wrong.

Leaving her alone—no matter the reason—no longer seemed to be one of those possibilities I considered anymore. My senses, my mind, my body were all filled with one thing that pulsed through my consciousness like a steady heartbeat: the ever-present instinct to protect.

"Are you okay, Killua?" I was mildly startled by Senritsu standing right beside me, her voice barely over a whisper, warm eyes raking over me like slashing shards of ice. I subconsciously checked my heartbeat. It was picking, my medulla oblongata had neglected to fire any synapses to make me breathe. This never happened before. I was always in control of this.

"I'm fine." I managed a half-smile, which Senritsu instantly returned before our eyes glided back to continue watching.

Something in the air, something in the way my senses sharpened, told me that I was anticipating something.

Something inside me felt a bit queasy.

The adrenaline was pumping and pumping into my blood like acid through my veins.

My mind went from peaceful to utterly pained and uncomfortable.

The beanie guy's eyes widened.

_If you see a chance to distract or confuse the enemy, you take it._

And then Yuki finally did what she should have done much earlier.

A steady surge of aura seeped out of her. The fluid that spilled forth into the air was too bright to be seen by any Nen user, too brilliant to be imagined, too incandescent like a theatrical stage floodlight. _Overwhelming._ The bright energy blazed a searing red, the color mixed blue and purple. _Stagnant._ It blazed on and on that I couldn't look directly at it; it was so bright that I had to squint. _Suffocating._ It came with a strange feeling, the one I always ran away from in my worst nightmares. _Ugly_. Its familiarity was anything but soothing, but more like pinpricks running up and down every bit of my skin. _Disgusting._

Why?

Looking around me, I realized that no one was having the same reaction I was having. Everyone was staring blankly at the scene, as if they were reading the daily newspaper.

Why?

The beanie guy's eyes almost bugged out of their sockets.

With each flood of aura, I became more numb to the feeling. With each shot, I felt less ecstatic and more hateful. With the last, all the adrenaline in my blood was unleashed.

The beanie guy's eyes were filled with pure horror.

_Your goal isn't just to cut down the enemy, it's to make them afraid._

The hand he had around Jei's neck trembled and sagged, the blade slowly moving away.

My hand reached for the glass door's handle, but was stopped mid-air by Kurapika's grip. His eyes blazed frostily at me. "Stay put," he warned.

I gritted my teeth at his intolerable calm.

Kurapika held the transceiver to his mouth. "Now," he commanded.

What was left of the battle didn't take very long after that.

I had no time to predict the meaning of that one-syllable command because the answer revealed itself. Beanie Guy winced when his knife fell from his hand by an unexpected bullet, coming from the gun of a cop hidden in one of the room's corners.

Beanie Guy's pupils dilated. As he tried to comprehend what happened, Yuki lunged and pulled Jei into her arms, throwing an arm around his shoulders as a shield. She sidestepped and leaned down, picking up the neck-knife from the floor. It all happened in a matter of five seconds—was it longer? Or shorter? The concept of time had deserted me.

The blond seethed when he sobered, and swiped a swift fist at Yuki's head, who simply ducked to let the guy embed his hand in the air.

_Never turn your back on your enemy._

He turned, lashed out blindly, and I caught a flash of metal out of the corner of my eye when I saw his fist waving another small, engraved neck-knife. Jumping backwards, Yuki avoided it, but not completely, since it grazed her left arm.

When I saw her arm coated in red, it was all the color that I could see.

I launched myself out of the room.

The cops' eyes finally spotted the second knife.

Predictably, this provoked a round of gunfire as everyone shot crazily at the now unarmed intruder.

But he leapt into the air, clearing the narrow space between him and the huge security guards. He jumped from one wall to another, laughing maddeningly at their incensed faces.

People were ducking under tables, counters, chairs and anything they could find.

The screeching voices were getting high.

I watched in the haze of the bullets as Yuki gently placed Jei in the nearest corner.

A couple of men rushed towards him, and pulled him to his feet. They were obviously Nostrad's personal bodyguards, because the man himself immediately followed them, a look of genuine worry crossing his face. Jei flipped them all off, glaring as he took a deep breath, ran his fingers through the deliberate mess of his hair_—_the fingers came away sweaty, I could see it.

At the same moment, the entire lobby exploded with the sound of gunfire and the smell of powder smoke, threatening to engulf the entire floor, but _none_ of the bullets that were fired from the security guards' big guns were able to hit the leaping man.

His speed was impressive.

The screeching voices were getting higher and higher.

I internally groaned. Moving in any direction would be considered a suicidal folly in this instant. Bullets were flying everywhere, hitting all kinds of things, all except for their original target.

What a real nuisance.

He was too much of a coward to pause to even fight. He was your worst kind of thieves.

He leapt _up, _not sideways, leapt up higher than he should have been able to go, balancing himself on the chandelier that hung over our heads, just for a split second before his bare hand shaped a gun, and aimed it at the aggravated guards.

"Huh?" I said without even thinking about it.

Everyone exchanged an incredulous look. What was this idiot thinking? The first thought that occurred to me was that he was obviously trying to win some time in order to plan a safe escape, but his boldness and the confident look on his face were alarming.

He pretended to fire.

A tortured, sudden cry came from one of the men, and caused everyone to crane their neck towards him. The man's neck soon became slick with blood, trickling down his shirt as his fingers touched the crimson liquid in panic.

Almost every face reflected an immense confusion.

"Killua, look!" I heard Gon's voice from behind me, distantly at first but with utter clarity when he approached me, shaking my shoulder violently. I tore my eyes from the horror-struck faces of the men and focused on Gon's finger that was pointing at one of the windows. It was only when I zoomed in on the clean glass, and it all came clear when my eyes caught the very small, circular crack in the window: the true access of the bullet.

The beanie guy's partner was close – too close, and he was one hell of a sniper.

The beanie guy's face twisted into a sneer from where he was swinging from the chandelier's chains, his gun-shaped hand picking its next target.

He fired again, and again, and again. Four men were knocked off their feet and were sent sprawling backward, hitting the ground on their backs.

Afterwards, everything fell out of control.

The room turned into a perfect mess.

No one could stay still.

I saw Yuki staring at me from the distance; staring at me with a look of concern. She was squeezing her arm to stop the bleeding.

Across the room, our eyes met.

I had only a fraction of a second to wonder, in the back of my mind, what she was so concerned about, before I found myself moving towards her. As the screaming erupted around me, I ran across the wide room, successfully avoiding the gunshots. It was when I realized that the beanie guy was moving along with me, crawling on the ceiling in an injudicious pace. I sped up, but halted despite myself when a cop's body fell right at my feet, and I lost a whole precious second.

Yuki looked straight into my eyes, then back to the guy climbing at the wall beside her.

She didn't dodge, she didn't counter, she didn't have enough time left for either, for she wouldn't surpass the guy's speed. I stopped breathing all together when he reached her, but my expectations failed once again. His body shifted speedily before hers, just passing by her frozen form, almost a slo-mo style, without touching her or giving her a single scratch. He headed towards one of the windows, and jumped.

It was all over.

The shooting stopped.

The tension faltered.

Before I was given the chance to sigh with relief, I saw Yuki looking down horrifically at her dress, looking like she'd just been slapped. Her face turned into absolute dismay. In less than two seconds, she made a move.

And a second later, she was out of the window, too.

* * *

**Yuki's PoV**_  
_

_No, no, no, no, NO!_

There was this brief moment when I was absolute that my stomach tried to leap up into my throat, and my body tried desperately to orient itself in the absence of any possible way to do so.

"_STOP!_" I have no idea why I yelled that after him; it was such an instinctive response a person makes after getting mugged. Yes, I'd just said _mugged_. The leaping bastard had just mugged me. Even though I had been fully on guard, he somehow managed to snatch my necklace right off my neck—the one that I always wore—and run away with it, _right out of the freakin' window._

I can't remember what happened next too well, because I had started mindlessly cursing like a complete banchee, and it was the perfect chance for the naïve part of me to take control as I rushed toward the window in a frantic haste, the one and only thought in my mind was to get my necklace back, all comprehension and logic be damned. They'd seemingly fallen off the window along with the thief.

I do remember someone shouting, "_Yuki!_" in the background, at the top of their voice. They sounded suspiciously like Killua. But everything got rather bleary when my feet landed onto the ground. Thankfully, I only had to jump two floors down to reach the drenched streets without any unnecessary incidents—and by incidents I mean having my foot slipping or hitting a random passerby—something I was very grateful for. It was merely a fortunate last-minute decision to put on my boots before leaving my room.

I ran, and ran, and ran.

The icy wind howled around me.

The biting September wind howled around the streets, whispering and whistling in odd pitches as it blew past closed windows and stone turrets. It almost felt like York Shin itself was sick, wracked with coughs and death rattles.

One might have thought it would feel safer to have ground under your feet as a supply of power.

But if that ground was consisted entirely of mud and massive puddles of filthy rainwater that kept splashing up onto the hem of your clothes to slosh afterwards around insides your shoes with each step you take, while you were running across it at a high rate of speed….

Then you would be sadly mistaken.

The distant figure of the thief was dodging and scrambling as it ran, and not slowing down, but I could catch up with him.

It was inevitable.

I was gaining.

…Until I slipped.

_That_ was inevitable, in retrospect, in real life you couldn't _actually_ run across a slippery slanted surface at a high rate of speed.

The next thing I knew, I was spinning around the damp sidewalk. And it was not because I liked that nauseous feeling of being totally disoriented, but because someone had grabbed my right arm, and caught me, only I was already too far off balance, I was falling and pulling the person with me, but it almost felt like I was being pushed down toward the ground to fall flatly on my back. Somehow through the tumble, I managed to keep the neck-knife in my hand.

There was a hard, painful impact, not just my weight hitting the sidewalk but some of the person's weight too, and it was just when I finally regained a little of my brain did I took a moment to notice the awkward situation that I had found myself in. I was being pinned by the wrists in death grips, underneath the body of someone who was _almost_ straddling my thighs. Someone with a sharp gaze and silvery-white locks that I knew so well.

Heat pooled around my cheeks. "G-get the hell off me!"

Killua stared down at me through feral eyes. "_What the fuck_ do you think you're doing?"

"Interesting question! I'm cosplaying Princess Daisy of the Water-slip Dancing," I spat back. "I'm trying to follow that thief, jackass!" I probably shouldn't have snapped at him like that, but I was at my limit; the stress was starting to get me. If I didn't get my necklace back, then I was utterly, undoubtedly, and downright tragically screwed.

Plus, you don't normally show a lot of respect for guys who pin you against a muddy pavement.

As I started taking my hands out of his—or rather _tried_ to, Killua countered, "Do you have a justified reason to do this or do you just enjoy flirting with disasters?"

The battle had become ridiculously difficult, because I felt like his fingers were trying to pierce my skin, almost cracking the bones underneath. The only way I could free myself was if I had hands made of Kryptonite or something.

"I _do_ have one, and I need to run _right now_! I cannot waste time in this conversation, so _LET ME GO_!" I was quickly becoming breathless from all the struggling and all the screaming.

Killua didn't even stir.

"I don't think so," he objected, while I was still uselessly trying to move my hands. "The harsh reality, Yuki, is that you're a reckless, stubborn trouble-magnet with no sense of self-preservation, zero responsibility and absolutely no tension who is whole-heartedly willing to shove herself in the face of danger with every opportunity she gets."

"Please let me go!" I cried urgently, thrashing my head back and forth, mumbling, "'s not my fault that I got mugged! I need to get it back right now before he gets too far! Before it's too late!"

Killua scowled down at me. "What did you just say? I didn't understand a word of that."

"_Oh my go_—" I panted. "Ugh! Just wait until I get your sleazy hands off of me!"

Another sudden squeezing around my wrists made me flinch, and try, quite difficultly, to ignore the torrent of pain that came along with it when Killua impossibly tried to press my body even closer to the pavement, which smelled like ice and felt like ice against my half-bare back. Some utterly pointless instinct made me convinced that I was about to make a Yuki-shaped hole in the ground ─ that was how strong Killua's grip was.

I was trapped.

He leaned further down, and my eyes almost crossed out from the proximity of his face. "Then? Watcha gonna do about it? Slap me to death?"

Hearing that, I considered using drastic means to get him to release me, not really giving a hoot about the method I was going to follow.

For a second, I started to think of a way to benefit from the fact that I could freely move my legs from where they were bent beneath him, and I came back with an insane idea. I would totally succeed in my attempt considering the very small, relatively insignificant space between my knee and his…groin. But damn me if I didn't feel awful about even thinking it, to the point that I mentally cringed at the image; it must be such a douchbaggery move, not to mention completely unprofessional.

But─

It was my last resort. It was my only primary method of inflicting pain at this point.

I jerked my leg around a little, ready to kick. However, Killua's body quickly flew backwards, leaping off me before my knee could make a contact with its goal. He probably figured out my plan or instinctively sensed it. Guys were biologically programmed to protect that area, after all.

The mingled disbelief and disgust on his face when he stared at me were absolutely priceless. "Were you just trying to ruin my life?"

I balanced myself, wiping the mud away as I rolled my eyes at him. "Would you rather I tried to kick you in the face instead?"

"I know it makes no sense, but yes!"

I fixed him with a venomous glare. "I lost that guy's track, I hope you're happy now!" I practically snarled, ran my fingers through my now wet, disarrayed hair and sighed. "What are you doing anyway? You shouldn't be here!"

"Where else should I be?" he said with an arched brow. "Would you explain to me what's going on?"

"That guy snatched my necklace like a kleptomaniac on speed and ran away with it and I need it back right away," I shrieked, sounding like a pouty little kid complaining about monsters in her closet. "If I had to make a list of impossible things that could ever happen to me, losing that necklace would be right at the top of the list. I cannot afford to lose it, I just can't—"

"Okay, got it!" Killua scolded, effectively silencing my blabbermouth. His eyes were closed. "I know it must be something important to you when you start chattering like a monkey." He looked at me directly. "Just chill out, okay? It won't be hard to find him. It's true he's fast, but he seems to have the IQ of a squirrel." He breathed out a sigh and straightened up. "It's good that I followed you. You can still catch up with him. Now come." He held out his hand, and I automatically placed mine in his before I snatched it away.

"Wait a minute, did you follow me because you didn't think I could take care of myself?"

Killua's face hardened. "Yes, and if you're going to get mad at me for that, you need to get over it. I think I've made it pretty clear that just because we are not friends anymore doesn't mean I'm not going to stick around. Can you deal with that or not?"

I grimaced at him. "Did you just ask for my permission to be my stalker?"

"You're clearly confusing permission with courtesy."

"I don't understand. Why do you always assume that I'm gonna break my neck?" I challenged. If I could just focus on one thing….

"I know you're strong," he said. His tone was placating as if he was talking to a child. "You're just a little insane, too." With that, he stalked away and started running.

"So that's why you drew a certain line for me and whenever I cross it, you run after me with a whip?"

Killua's mouth softened. What I said was apparently humorous, at least for him. "Don't get me started on the irony of that," he said.

"This isn't funny," I said bitterly. This whole time, I had been running huffily next to him, but not missing the various looks of entertainment on his face.

"I respectfully disagree," he said, and I could tell he was trying hard to bite back his smile. "You have no sense of humor."

"I have no sense of Killua humor."

"You don't? That's just sad." He had adopted his serious face, though he was still suppressing his amusement.

I huffed. He relished it.

"No, you're right. It's not that funny. Hey—" Killua stopped and touched my shoulder. I turned my head to look at him, completely ready to do just that when suddenly, simultaneously, I realize how close we were, leaning in the same direction at the same angle. Even if I wasn't quite comfortable with him, my body didn't seem to share the sentiment.

And then there was a Moment. The type that warranted a capital letter, one where green met blue, and something filled the space between us, the gaps in our rapport and the holes in our history with this tangible, almost palpable electricity.

He took a step in my direction.

"If you try to kiss me again, I'll sink my teeth into you." My tone was warning, which—hadn't you realized this by now, Yuki?—just egged Killua on more.

"Tempting," he said, twitching his eyebrow. "But no." He reached down and ripped off a piece of his shirt. I watched him pressing it hard against the cut in my upper arm, wrapping it there before tying the ends a bit too tight, making me wince. Looking back at me, he continued, "As much as I'd like to shut you up right now, I have no interest in trying something twice."

I frowned at the momentary strange pang I felt in my chest. I was not sure if I liked what I heard. "So you're a quitter," I blurted out.

Killua blinked at me in surprise, and it was just a matter of seconds before the smirk was back on his face, but it was a little softer somehow, a little faint and a little strained. "Why do I taste a hint of disappointment?" He was so slick an oil spill would slide off him.

Now it was my turn to blink in surprise, and perhaps, a touch of horror.

The greatest weapon he was using against me was my own mind; preying on the doubts and uncertainties that already lurked there, which wouldn't let me be true to myself or live for the expectations I'd set. He was making me run on this exhausting, unsustainable hamster wheel, the more I moved my little paws, the less I thought about things. By the time I realized I was stuck on it, I was already spinning so fast that jumping off seemed outright dangerous, and if I slowed down, all the fears, concerns and what-ifs might catch up to me. It was one dilemma I couldn't find a solution for.

I was the most screwed-up person on the planet.

I shrugged nonchalantly and closed my eyes to regain my equilibrium. He almost distracted me from the main problem I was having. "You wish," I replied, with all the maturity of a punished toddler. "Since you made me lose my target, I'm going to run clear around the entire city to find him. It's your cue to kindly get out of my hair now." I prepared myself to flee. His next few words, however, caught my attention.

"Or I could always help you."

"You? Help me? I'm not that desperate."

"You know this pretending to hate me game is getting a little silly." I had no chance to react to that because he quickly added, "Think about it."

Two was better than one. Killua and I had such different styles, in dealing with troubles as in life—he was careful, measured, always sure of the steps he took, while I was daring, provoking and even provocative, sometimes. If we were ever faced with a sleeping dragon—which hadn't happened _yet_—I would poke at it to wake and confront the beast, whereas Killua would carefully catalogue every detail before taking any action, which would be cautious in itself. Even though this inherent opposition was the root cause of much of our sparring, it could also cause success.

I narrowed my eyes at him, testing his honesty, but not for too long, for I couldn't afford losing more time. "Okay. If you insist," I said casually, but internally, I was practically giddy. But just when I was about to breathe an enormous sigh of relief, Killua asked:

"But what do I get in return?"

* * *

**_A/N: Over 300 reviews! You people are the best!  
_**

**_Do you think the action scene was decent? Did I do it justice?_**


	31. Vortex

**__****A/N: Yoshihiro Togashi owns it all. PetitL, my beta, owns a keen eye for an errant comma. And all the people who have added this story to alerts, and left me such kind and encouraging reviews, own ME.**

* * *

**_32. Vortex_**

_"Memories are forever."_

_"The Giver" by Lois Lowry_

* * *

_It was twilight when the eighteen-year-old young man passed the nickel and dime store after visiting the nearby grocer; he'd waited until later in the day to do his shopping, to avoid as many people as possible. Tapping his foot softly on the pavement, he glanced at his watch, blowing a puff of air to move his bangs away from his eyes, something that had been a habit for a while now, every time he was frustrated with something, or someone.  
_

_Her black hair swayed in the thickly humid breeze as she walked frantically in the streets; a glow, the shine of sweat, was on her white skin. She was panting and acting clingy, shifting through her thoughts, on her way home. Disturbed thoughts had led her to this small street, where the residents were barely containing one rage or another. Racial tension was nearly stifling, and the town was in decline, thus redirecting the flow of traffic—and much-needed business.  
_

_She watched the young man pause at a street corner, his brows pulled together, looking at his watch every ten seconds, seemingly waiting for someone. If he went straight, it would take him longer to get home—nearly five-mile walk in the cloying, mosquito-laden heat that got trapped between buildings—but the roads that way were main ones and better lit. If he went to the right, the roads were quiet and dark, but he'd make it home more quickly, needing only to walk four miles; the trees along that path kept it cooler, too; nothing could be done for the mosquitoes, of course. He sighed, knowing that he'd probably be in trouble no matter what he did. It was already well past the time his mother had told him to be home._

_As he debated within himself, he wiggled the fingers of his right hand. A small paper bag was tucked under his arm tightly enough that he'd long since lost feeling in his fingertips. The bag itself held four oranges, which hadn't been cheap, but he was happy he'd saved up for them. They were birthday presents for his twin siblings. The boy and the girl who were turning fifteen the next day. His thoughts were youthfully innocent and peaceful, and he homed in on them as he contemplated how he could make their birthday special.  
_

_He turned off the main street and went down the quiet side road, quietly humming 'Happy Birthday' under his breath._

___The brunette's body was possessed by an unknown blaze of outrage, a suicidal intoxication boiling in every drop of blood. She could've sworn to not felt sane but quite unstable, feeling as if driven by a strange attraction towards pain – madness. Fear slowly became overwhelmed by insanity, nothing more. This strong depression whirling around her felt like a lingering ghost. Memories flashed before her like images of an elapsed time the minute her eyes inspected the man's movements. _

___"…Sam?" her absent mind wondered. She walked towards him, her shadow danced along behind her, melding with the darkness cast by the buildings and the trees. She ignored everything: the heat and the ache in her throat.  
_

_As she was in the middle of following him, a flock of blackbirds flew up in the distance—about three miles away, she judged. They flew frantically, a massive tangled horde of black-winged bodies, clearly disturbed by something below. At this hour of the day, they should have been resting._

_She looked around the main street. No one was out; movements were quiet, only the ruffling of trees could be heard. She decided she might as well see what had caused the commotion. It only took a few minutes of walking at a slow pace for her to end up on the quiet side road the man had been aiming for.  
_

___A crow let out a long, ominous cry and the girl resisted the urge to shiver, rolling her eyes at the drama of the scene. Next thing, vultures would surely start circling. She reminded herself that she was twelve, not five years old._

_She walked on, enjoying the increasing silence, but perhaps it was the mental silence that allowed her to hear the pealing scream in the distance._

_The young man.  
_

_Taking to the cover of the woods, she ran with purpose, weaving through trees, jumping over swampy puddles and bramble, toward the sound of agony. It didn't take long—thirty seconds, perhaps—for her to grab hold of the screams once more. He was within range._

_And in danger._

_It would take her only a minute to get to him, but so much can happen in a minute._

_"Stop!" the man was crying, as he blindly clawed at a pale, brazen-eyed face that hovered above his own. "Please!"_

_"Fucking asshole!" The attacker slapped the man across the face with one hand while fumbling with the other to reach for his back pocket. "Shut your mouth! You scum! Fucking worthless scum!"  
_

_The attacker pulled a knife and scratched the young man's shoulder, until a bit of skin was on display, stark against faded yellow fabric. Stark against the red of the brunette's anger. Stark against the orange in the boy's peripheral vision; one had rolled from the brown paper bag, collecting dirt along the way._

_Defenseless, the young man screamed behind a quieting hand that smelled acridly of grass and shelled peas. He knew the attacker, and that made it all the worse. His father was a farmhand for his father—had been for years. The betrayal was sharp, deep and personal. There had been a time when they'd played together, he and the attacker, briefly, before it was wrong to do so, before their parents made them stop, before the attacker's family broke down._

_The attacker was grunting like a hog, lost to fleshly hatred and indifferent to the tears that wetted his hand, as he held the small knife to the young man's neck, who went still and closed his eyes, tight. His mind tucked in on itself, went to a place where no one could hurt him._

_Cutting off her air supply, the brunette leapt out of the woods as she neared them, dirt flying up around her feet with the impact of landing. She swept in at preternatural speed, swiping the knife from attacker's hand as he prepared to take another slice. Before a second had passed, she was safely ensconced in the shadowy rafters of the huge, old maple tree directly above them, clutching the knife in her hand._

_"Where the __fuck _did my knife go? What the hell was that?" he shouted, his eyes darting around the woods. "You little fucker, someone followed you, didn't they?" he screamed, slapping the young man again, this time on the other cheek.  


_Silent, the girl slipped behind the attacker and reached out, grabbing him by his neck, pulling him away from the whimpering man on the ground, who gasped at the sudden relief. The attacker came away with a startled yelp, his breeches hanging down around his knees. The girl locked eyes with him before throwing him bodily, several feet away, his limbs flying awkwardly out to catch himself. He landed beneath a hickory tree, in a muddy bed of grasses that caught him with a wet splat._

_The brunette's eyes met the young man's, then; his cheeks were stained with tears, but he'd stopped crying. He lay still again now, frightened and unsure. What now? his mind screamed. He didn't speak; the only noises he made were his sharp, staccato intakes of breath.  
_

_The girl strode over to the quaking form of the attacker, whose whole right side was covered in grass and mud. He couldn't have been older than eighteen—just like the young man. He suddenly rushed her, but she darted out of the way easily, tripping him as she went, smiling at his shock. She stopped directly opposite of him, letting him see where she was. He stared at her, silent and afraid. She saw herself in his eye, ghostly pale, icy-blue-eyed.  
_

_"I'll do anything you want," he whispered._

_"You can't give me anything," she said, "and you've done enough."  
_

_"Please, make it quick," he begged. He lay limply now; one shoulder was dislocated from when he'd tried to run away, and she had grabbed him. A fine layer of sweat was on his brow._

_"_He_ said please, you heard him," she reminded him mockingly, and his eyes went round and out of focus. _

_He began to pray, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…"  
_

_The girl rushed forward, grabbing him by the throat, running until she slammed his back into that old tree. She cut off his air for just a few seconds as she leaned in, frightening him just a bit more and causing his adrenal glands to work overtime. He screamed and kicked uselessly at her shins. The brunette leaned forward and pressed her lips to one or his ears. He flinched as she used the last of her air to speak. "That won't help," she told him, and then sank his knife into the skin of his waist._

_"No!" the young man rose from the ground and gripped her wrist, halting her from going for the second stab. "Let him go, please! J-just give him a chance! "_

_She scoffed, "Give him a chance? He tried to kill you!"_

_"It doesn't matter! __Run, Hachiuma, run!" the young man shouted to his old friend. _

_Her grip tightened on Hachiuma's neck, but the young man held her firm. She slipped her wrist away, causing his body to stumble back a few steps, but soon enough, his arms were around her, pulling her back while screaming to Hachiuma to escape, who was still moaning on the ground. _

_It was quite disturbing._

_"L-lemme go! I know what I'm doing!" She whirled around, facing the young man now. "I don't want to hurt you! Step back!" the brunette warned. _

_The young man caught the unmistakable acrid scent of urine and saw the dark stain spreading over his old friend's trousers. __His heartbeat was furiously fast, and his breath came in clipped bursts. __"Please, just don't kill him," he pleaded for his old friend. "He did nothing wrong. It was all my father's fault."_

_"I don't care! People like him shouldn't be allowed to live for very long!" she countered._

_"Please! I'm begging you, let him go," the young man said, his face crumpled with hurt. _

_Carefully, the brunette wiped blood from her face and neck. She stood for ten seconds, forcing herself to breathe the night air, counting her heartbeats as she came down from the blinding madness. _

_Out of nowhere, not like any of them were aware, Hachiuma jumped from his place, slamming his front to the girl's back and lunging forward, guiding the knife in her hand to the young man's chest. It all happened in mere seconds. The world remained frozen in mid-rotation, like it'd never rotate again.  
_

_When the young man's body was no more than a hollow shell, the attacker detached himself from him with a satisfied sigh and shoved his body away with his foot. The girl thought she could see his smirk broaden when he threw the knife before making his way out of the place, his feet slapping on the muddy ground as his whimpers once again grew in volume, only to fade away shortly afterwards. _

_Utterly bewildered, she watched the young man's body falling. She'd never forget how he wailed, the way he rolled and convulsed along the ground like a fish out of water to leave drops of blood in his wake, like all the pain in the world had gathered in his body in that one moment to possess him. _

_"Where's it gone? Can't have gone far… Wish I could see. It's so cold. I gotta find it," he was muttering weakly, looking around him. It was dark out now, the stars shining brightly, and it was under this haunting light that she saw him crawling around on his knees. _

_The muscles around her mouth and eyes twitched, as if she might cry out—in pain, in anger, in something deep and corrosive._

_She kept breathing, kept pulling in the scents around her—oranges and pecans and honey, earth and trees, fear and salty sweat. She kept staring at him, kept seeing red, red, red. _

___Then, like a candle flame in the wind, the young man fell still, looking up at the sky sleepily, still in shock, still wondering where the fourth orange had rolled._

* * *

"But what do I get in return?"

I gasped in fear, and all the muscles deep in my belly clenched, my inner self doing the dance of the seven veils.

"Nothing if you're offering _your help_!" I fired back.

"I changed my mind, I'm not. You actually _are_ that desperate, and you know, a guy must take his chances. I _have_ thought of a trade, though."

_A trade?_ I gave him a skeptical look. Killua's smile broke over his face and broke some of the tension, but the look on his face was dangerous—he was about to barter me and even though I was on guard, I couldn't help feeling nervous, though; I could feel it like there were little relay runners in my blood, sprinting and surging from my drumming fingers to my chewed-on lip to my swaying body. _Oh, damn him_.

"Fine," I conceded, a bit irked. "Everything has a price, right? What do you want?"

"First of all—"

"There's a _list_?" I grumbled, incredulous. This was going to suck worse than anything that'd ever sucked before.

Killua's returning look was equally hard. "Do you want your necklace back or not?"

Exasperated, I was tapping my foot rapidly against the pavement, my fingers digging into my hips. My eyes went on staring distantly at the empty space; I knew that he'd not do me a favor just for the sake of it—because hello, he was _Killua_—but my brain couldn't find the energy to come up with another way. Somehow it seemed like the worst thing in the world to trust him, even worse than having my necklace stolen; and yet I still wanted to trust him in this, for I had no other choice. "Continue," I demanded in defeat, waving a hand in his direction.

"First of all, you will quit being a total bitch around me till the end of the auction."

What a delight. With Killua around, who needed self-esteem? He called me a slut, insane and bitch in the span of six hours. I probably _had_ to be sinking my teeth into him. "I'll do my best," I acquiesced, rolling my eyes.

"And you will buy me all the candy you stole from me a week ago."

"_WHA_—I did _not_ steal them from you, I _burrowed_ them. My sugar pressure was just too low and you weren't there and—" I paused, because Killua almost yawned at me. I cleared my throat and impressively rearranged my expression into one of indifference in a split second, beating down my first instinct to blush and be embarrassed. "Fine, I will buy you all the candy that I burrowed from you a week ago."

"And you will double the quantity."

"And I will double the quantity."

"And you will smile at me more often."

"And I will smile at you more often."

"And you will kiss me."

"And I will kiss—WHAT?" I turned my head back to him, my mouth slightly open, the same little runners from earlier making me sweat a little, making my heart beat faster, my breath a little shallow. Killua was quite enjoying this. His grin was impish and he looked more like a little boy rather than a double-tongued, deceptive savant. "Oh, you villainous, little—" I stepped forward and he backed right away, holding his index finger up between us.

"Hey, hey, you may want to start playing nice starting now."

I was still fuming. "Can't you ever behave?"

Killua smiled and mimed a halo round his head to which I rolled my eyes. "Now wait for me until I come back. I'll find that guy in twenty minutes instead of five if you come with me," he said matter-of-factly.

I pursed my lips; I didn't like the sound of that.

"You want to come with me, don't you?"

I nodded.

Killua arched a disapproving eyebrow. "But—"

"Oh no, no, no, don't say but! No, no, but's never good! Let's just leave it at. You'll go, and I'll go with you!"

"Fine, uhh, however—"

"Oh, now see, that's a just fancy 'but!'"

He let out a sigh, squaring his shoulders a little. "Alright." He whirled around so I was facing his back. "Hop on."

"'Hop?' What do you mean 'hop'?" I scoffed a laugh. He bent at the knees. "Hop as in… oh no. No. Killua. No, no. No, we talked about this, no. No way. I'm _not_ gonna let you piggy-back me again, no."

"So many 'no's!" Killua said.

"I will say 'no' more times if it will get through your stubborn head."

"You know you can't catch up with me. Besides, if you're so against the piggy-back ride, there's always Plan B." He swept down and unexpectedly, his arm was behind my knees, going for bridal style.

I abruptly tensed. "No! Okay, I'll hop! I'll hop."

Killua's face twisted in annoyance. "You know. Whoever invented the term 'It's not polite to hit a girl' has clearly never met you." Rolling my eyes at him one last time, he gave his back to me again. I let out a loud sigh, but waddled forward and put my arms around his neck. I tightened my jaw and repressed a shiver as I felt his hair tickling my neck.

"Oof," he grunted loudly when I lifted my knees around his waist and hopped on his back. "Damn, you're getting heavy," he teased. _Jerk_. He continued to smirk until I allegedly tightened my forearm a little too much around his throat. Allegedly on purpose. He coughed and I let go.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you _never_ to make fun of a girl's weight?" I growled. Killua just grinned, making me want to choke him again. I leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "Did you forget that I was still holding this?" I brought the thief's neck-knife a bit closer to Killua's collarbone. He noticed it and immediately stopped to glare at me.

"Hey, take that away, this is _not_ funny!"

"Oh, but I 'respectfully disagree.'" I smirked at the usage of his own words. It was so easy to tease him, probably because he was not used to it.

"Don't play games with me, Yuki," Killua warned, pretending like he was about to drop me. I held on tightly, like some type of arachnid – slash – primate. "Try something like that again and I'm gonna take you back to the auction building even if I have to drag you by your hair."

I mentally snorted. He wouldn't do that, of course.

**… **

Would he?

"Fine. Jeez—just keep your hair on," I muttered under my breath. I snuck another look at his face. His expression was serious now, all smirks and teasing sealed away. That was one of the thousand funny things about Killua. He could tease you as much as he pleased, but try doing the same to him, he didn't like it. That killed me.

Perhaps he thought I was truly going to hurt him.

His pace was getting faster and faster, and I, struggling to keep still, almost slipped. He reached out and grabbed my legs, giving a little jump-boost to hitch me higher on his back, and with the motion, his hands slid up my bare thighs—it was nowhere near indecent, but the slow feel sent my stomach into an Olympic somersault. Suddenly my face was on fire.

I leaned my head over his shoulder and caught him smirking again all over again. He just _loved_ to push my buttons.

"You better lose that smirk."

And he tried. I could tell that he really did. He bit both his lips, more than once. It didn't work. He didn't stop smirking—in fact, now he couldn't stop grinning.

It was the sweetest, most annoying thing ever.

"I bet you think wearing this dress is a bad idea now," he said. He was so tongue-in-cheek. And just like that, he was back to being him. How could he switch so quickly? He was the most capricious person I know.

"Funny." I said it sarcastically, but secretly, I thought it kind of was.

"For your entertainment, partner." Killua smiled, lips stretched thin and enticing.

I frowned. "I hate the way you say that."

"What, 'partner'? What's wrong with the way I say 'partner', partner?"

"Your tone implies the word 'romantic' should be in front of it."

"Once upon a time, that wouldn't have been completely wrong."

"Don't say 'once upon a time'. We were not a fairy tale."

"What, you think this is my idea of a happily ever after? It was just a turn of phrase, partner."

"You said that different."

"Well, you told me you didn't want me to give you any _secret smile_, or whatever. So I changed it. Now you tell me you don't like my tone. So I changed it. Contrary to what you believe, I don't always attempt to annoy you."

I fixed a look on him. "Yet you always manage to."

"Oh, the zingers, partner! I feel like I'm in a shooting range."

"Now it's more like partner…in crime."

"Ah, well you are my partner in _solving_ crime."

"I don't think what we're doing right now could be considered solving a crime."

We were slowly becoming one of those couples that often made me consider regurgitation.

He darted through the dark allies, looking around him every once and a while to determine the path he was about to take next. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, as if following a certain invisible thread. Then all of a sudden, he was running. And it was very fast.

"Did you find him?" I asked hopefully.

"Not yet." He leapt into the dark. He turned off the main street, then, going down the quiet side road where the only activity was from crickets and the occasional, green-bodied wink of a firefly. We wove through knotted trees and monolith tall buildings, only to end up on a quiet side road. In this city, it wasn't uncommon for main roads to suddenly drop off into wilderness, which was precisely what happened here.

Killua stopped. His face contorted with the effort and concentration on his task, and he looked like he was listening to something. His brow was furrowed, his lips were pressed together, his eyes looked almost closed as he focused on watching where he was going.

I tightened my arms around his shoulders and shivered at a blast of cold wind. "How are you hunting him down?"

With his eyes still on the road, he said, "Not my first time."

"That doesn't specifically answer my question."

"I'd tell you if you told me what you said to the beanie guy that made him chicken out so bad," he replied.

"Didn't you hear the whole conversation?"

"No, Kurapika wouldn't let me get out to do that."

"Then I'm not saying."

"What's so important about that necklace?"

"Not saying."

"Does it have some kind of super powers?"

"Not saying."

Killua pouted and dropped the subject. "Hold on tight," he said, startling me.

I inhaled sharply in shock and renewed my grip.

He was running again.

I squealed as he doubled speed, bounding across sprawling creeks and fallen trees.

"Are we close?" I called in a loud enough voice that he'd hear over the wind.

"We're almost there." He nodded his chin toward the darkness ahead.

I never thought I'd ever appreciate Killua's assassin skills like I did right now.

We were on dirt and gravel roads so narrow that likely only one car could travel along them at a time. The place looked like a deserted wood. The smell of oak, red cedar and sweet gum trees were heavy in the air, along with that wet, green scent that was purely southern air—thick and humid. A misty fog snaked along the base of some tree trunks, promising midnight chill.

I scanned the familiar place anxiously. "Is he here?"

"Yup," Killua said.

I widely grinned at him and he beamed back, our muddled past and problematic present forgotten for the moment, but the minute those smiles waned, it came rushing back and we both looked away uncomfortably.

I slid down his back and stepped back quickly as he whipped around to give me a stern look. "Get ready and get cool. We're going to work as a team and I don't want your attitude screwing it up." We both whirled around at the sight of the familiar, scarred face of the thief, sitting casually on a tree branch. _That piece of—_Killua's hand clasped my shoulder. "Remember. Stay_…cool_."

I smiled sweetly at him. "Sure, sure." I turned my gaze upwards to the oblivious blond over the branch. "GIVE ME BACK MY NECKLACE, BUTTMUNCH!" I screamed, reaching a frequency and an octave that I swear went past human hearing and echoed through the place and my head.

Killua slapped his forehead.

The thief blinked back at me, finally paying attention to my presence. "You came!" he cheered in delight. His eyes flickered to Killua and widened. "And with company." He jumped and landed swiftly on the ground. "What, you need backup?" he taunted, his lips trembling but he forced a bitter smile. "Too afraid to face me alone?"

"Give me the necklace back," I repeated through gritted teeth.

The guy shrugged. "Uhh…see, I wish I could. Really. But I don't want to."

My anger spiked, but before I could move an inch, Killua pushed my shoulder back and stepped forward. He looked impassively at the blond. "Listen, I'm getting really impatient and bored; and I don't do impatient and bored." He extended his index and middle finger. "You have two options. One, you can give her the necklace back. And two, think about the first option."

"Oh, yeah?" The beanie guy stretched his arms and gripped a tree limb, swinging his body back and forth. "What if I don't?" He was one challenging idiot. Little he knew how Killua absolutely_ loved_ to be challenged.

"Well in that case I'll have to rip your heart out and shove it down your throat. Something I'm very good at."

The guy snorted derisively. "Screw you, dude."

Killua froze in place, like a statue. So did I. A lump formed in my throat when his huge eyes blinked at me. He looked like a bird mesmerized by a weasel, though only for a minute before he burst out laughing. He laughed a brilliant, bright laugh, one of pure, adrenaline-tinged joy. "Dude? Really? _Dude_?"

"Well, yeah. Unless you doubt it."

Killua stopped laughing instantly, frowning like someone snatched his ice cream. "What?"

The blond flashed us a wolf-like grin before he leaped up, standing on the tree limb.

I didn't know what I should be doing now—whether I should be trying to stay where I was without worsening the situation—well, without worsening the situation _any further_—while watching the thief enjoy messing with us, or compel to Killua's request to act cool to make a room for negotiation.

So, which option of these two did I pick?

Well….

It was secret option number three:

I followed my instinct.

After making sure of my success, I threw the neck-knife that I had in my hand this whole time, aiming it at the tree. I wanted to have the odds in my favor by trying to slow the guy down for the time being in order to avoid him jumping all over the place the way he did earlier in the auction building. What I couldn't see in that second was that Killua had moved as well, and was currently standing between me and the blond.

…

Dammit.

I clapped my hand on my mouth.

The neck-knife landed deftly in Killua's leg, right above his knee. He paused and looked down at himself, now blinking like a stunned bird that had just rammed a window. He held out his hands in front of him in a classic pacifying manner before he shot me an are-you-kidding-me look.

I mouthed, "Sorry." I had to stifle a laugh. This was just too absurd.

"We'll talk about this later," Killua muttered murderously, his voice deadly and ominously soft. He ripped the knife out of his leg before he turned to me. "This is the second time you try to kill me."

"Oh, please, that was just a small bullet," I countered back.

"This is the second time you try to kill me _tonight_."

_Oh!_

Or I guess it would be more appropriate to say 'O'. I flushed beet-red. It wasn't my fault he was so infuriating that I had to come up with a poor attempt to rescue myself from his harassing hands. Was he ever going to let _that_ go?

A faint white spark moved forward to set the pace, and behind it followed a brilliant silver figure, all other entities invisible. It took a moment for me to understand, to process the sounds, for it didn't sound like anything I'd ever heard before; the rhythm of the movement was so shattered, almost unrecognizable, that it took me that long to realize that the blond guy was running, jumping, climbing around us at a consistent pace.

"UGH. How troublesome," Killua whined.

The blond started laughing. It was like the place was his playground. He moved from one spot to another in the shadows. If his intention was to make me dizzy, then it was surely working. His feet hit on the trees, pounding against the branches, sending little wood-shavings all over the place and our heads.

I stamped my foot on the ground. Would he stop moving for just _one_—

**_SMACK!_**

Holy mother of god and all damnation, the bastard flew past me and his knuckles connected squarely with my jaw, with a solidly clenched fist. I stumbled backwards, reeling from the impact. The force of it sent me lurching, trying to keep balance, but my legs gave out beneath me and I sank to the ground. He was way too fast, which made the smack even stronger, so strong that for just one moment, I thought I lost all my teeth. My left hand instinctively reached up to protect my head from the bunch of rocks as I fell, and a temporarily stabbing pain assaulted my forearm. I hadn't expected that, not at all.

Killua approached me quickly, the wind blasted me suddenly from the speed. He dropped to his knees at my side, and he spoke my name, somehow coating the word with honey and thorns. "Yuki?" Grabbing my head between his hands, he stared with wide, terrified eyes into mine. "Are you okay?"

The blond kept bouncing around, his laughter growing more presumptuous by the second.

"Yeah," I rasped, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Blood blossomed forth, a sick, copper taste in my mouth. I spat it onto the ground. "I'm good." Patting Killua's forearms once, I willed them to let go of my face so I could set myself on my feet. But he just bowed his head, and didn't let go. It might be my imagination, but his hands had gotten rougher and courser, almost squishing my ears against my head.

The blond came to a halt, standing across from us, growing a huge, sickening grin across his face.

"Okay, now you're hurting me." I tilted my head to the side in hopes to catch a glimpse of Killua's face. Frowning and with a little prickle of worry, I nudged his shoulder twice, and he looked up. Not at me, but at the beanie guy. There was a dreadful bewilderment on his face, his eyes widening into two dark pools of horror. My breath hitched in my throat, a sense of uneasiness rising inexorably within me, a wild sort of anxiety and fear.

"What did you just do to her?" Killua murmured dryly, his tone empty and flat. He was staring at the blond with unfocused and clouded eyes; all his facial muscles were taught. That empty coldness lurking behind them was enough to make me shiver. His muscles bunched and tensed as a hair-raising energy swept through him, and he stood up swiftly, bristled, powerfully—rock steady. He was furious. _Oh, no._

I didn't know what to do, I didn't understand what was happening. I was too scared to move. Seeing that look on his face, I thought faster than I ever did my life, gruesome and agonizing memories flooded my mind, like a knife twisting inside my chest; sharp, aching, tearing me apart.

I'd not seen him this mad before.

His chest was rising and falling rapidly, and I watched numbly as he worked himself into a true rage.

Killua shifted.

Despite the fact that my mouth had no moisture in it whatsoever, I yelled, "No!"

But it was too late. In a blurry, flashy movement, Killua was in no place where I could see him.

It all happened too fast, I couldn't comprehend a lot of details. The beanie guy wasn't a wuss. He sidestepped, hopelessly trying to find an escape. Killua effortlessly got him, but the guy gracefully sidestepped again. He was fast.

Killua was faster.

In another blurry, flashy movement, too overwhelming for my astonished, trance-like state, Killua's fingers were fisting the guy's hair, pulling him and dragging him to the wall, the way a snarling beast would grip a fearless hunter. There was a terrific crashing sound, a loud crack. A crunch of something hitting something, followed by a half-scream, half-groan. I finally saw it. The blond's head was slammed right into the wall.

My mind just stopped functioning.

My body finally reacted, and I was moving. _Is he dead?_ I couldn't see, there was dust everywhere. The impact of the guy's head apparently damaged a part of the wall. _Oh, shit._ I got closer enough to see his face, preparing myself for a gut-wrenching sight. He was breathing, I realized in panic. He looked sleepy, though, an ugly gash over his temple. A thick skull, he had.

I felt relief, but not for so long. Killua's fist reached out, swift and hard, to strike the guy's stomach, and made perfect contact with its goal. It was a horrific blow. "_Arrgh_!" the blond cried out in pain and surprise, leaning off balance. His knees buckled, and he collapsed with a groan onto the ground, grasping his stomach with both hands.

I cringed inwardly and wished I could somehow magic myself out of the place, out of the town, maybe even out of this life.

But then the unexpected happened. The guy started smirking, amused and humored.

Suddenly my fear was back, fear of what Killua would do to that guy, fear of what I would be forced to witness.

He pulled at the blond's strands once again, aiming for another slam. This one would be undoubtedly fatal. He wanted to blow the guy's head right off his body, to see his brain go flying in pieces, and nothing could stop him. Because he was the kind of guy who, if he came to the bottom of a mountain, he would climb it, straight up to its crown, that was just who he was.

This was no longer a normal thief; this was a target now.

I had to do something, to scream and bellow furiously at him. Reach out and grab his hand, his arm or his shoulder, anything that would force him still. But all my thoughts sounded dangerously insane in my head.

"Killua," I tried tentatively, my hand wrapping around his wrist. My voice was trembling awfully. "Killua, calm down." I breathed deep, forced my mind to be calm, serene. Killua looked down at my hand. His face darkened, his eyes flashing, and in that instant I was afraid of him. He stood towering over me, blocking the moonlight, his energy radiating from him almost visibly. The air around him seemed to crackle.

I stepped back from him, but kept his wrist in my weak grip, put a safe distance between us, finally back in my element. I had never been party to his tantrums before, nor had I witnessed first hand what he did to those who would hurt me.

Something in the back of my mind begged me to run away. My blood pulsed hotly in my veins, my skin hypersensitive, my thoughts jumbled and disjointed, the air chilling the skin his hand had heated.

I never thought I would be this afraid of him.

I backed away further, my sneakers sucking at the ground. I backed over to hit a flat, wet stone. I just want to curl up. Curl up and recuperate in some way.

Deep breath in, hold, breathe out. Repeat. My throat was dry. My face was deathly white.

The blond flinched involuntarily, bracing himself for another thud that never fell.

I stared at the insidious silver glow from above that slid across the ground between Killua's feet and mine.

I felt his magnetic pull, tied to my pulse, being pulled taut from where he stood.

I felt like my body wasn't mine anymore.

"Please stop," I whispered, not sure if I was speaking to him or myself. Killua stared at my shaking hand in disbelief. I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes formed an odd distance, as if he was seeing a long lost version of scenes that seemed to be playing over and over in his mind, and they were uncountable. He hesitated; there was something in the lined face that shocked him, like a hint to all the emotion that wasn't being displayed, years and years of it….

Silence shrouded us for a moment. All except for the shrilling of locusts, the occasional piping of a lonely bird in a near-by thicket and the blond's harsh breathing.

Finally, a mask of distant ease wiped the emotion from Killua's face. He closed his eyes and inhaled a fiery breath, simmering with outrage. There was a manic glint in his eyes and with a final, determined twist, he wrenched himself away from the guy. The glint disappeared from his eyes, the fierceness drained away from his face, and I was able to breathe, allowing a small exhale of gratitude.

The moon blazed bright, glowing on the mud where we stood, and it suddenly illuminated everything.

I tried not to flinch when Killua hissed something beneath his breath and moved slightly away. He began running his hand through his hair.

Looked like a vaudeville villain on a stage, he looked like he was tearing his hair out. I winced in sympathy for his poor hair, the soft thick mess being punished. He kicked at a nearby lump of turf, sending it flying as the blond coughed his blood onto the ground where he lay and gasped for air.

I knelt down and grasped the collar of his shirt. "You have ten seconds to appreciate the fact that you're not dead," I whispered sharply. "Give me the necklace back."

He stared at me for a long time before tucking his hand in his pants pockets with slight difficulty. "Alright, alright, take it. You guys are no fun. All serious and shit," he sputtered, handing me the necklace. I clumsily threw it around my neck with one hand while watching the guy's mouth forming an icy smile of recognition. "Let's not repeat the history of this place."

I felt an inward, full-body flinch. There was no word frightening enough to describe the force of what happened to me at that moment.

His words dropped into my consciousness, shattered my thoughts into a hundred shards of incredulity.

They quietly mocked me, testing the brittle chains holding back their memories, invoking an aching stir of emptiness.

My head prickled as every single hair follicle on my body stood to attention, and the world fell away from me, leaving a wide, yawning abyss for me to fall into.

A whirlwind of images seemed to flash through my mind, then, a woman weeping in her husband's arms; the tough look on the husband's face, standing tall and terrible, trying not to collapse; a vision of a girl screaming in her bedroom, as I forced myself to listen; and an imagination of a smiling young man with smooth, beautiful hair dripping with blood and falling amid the flames of the woods, as a knife was embedded in his heart and orange light reflected from a bloody moon.

There were intakes of breath from all around me.

I noted faintly that my hand was shaking again.

The guy whose neck had been between my fingers during these long seconds seemed to relax, and a happy smirk came over his face.

The next thing I knew, Killua's face moved in my line of vision, willing me to look at him. "Hey, what's wrong?" he said evenly.

I looked at him, then back at the guy before me, puzzled.

When I released his shirt, he was still smirking.

I was looking at him, looking very worried; Killua beside me was studying me very carefully; the blond appeared tremendously relieved; and all I was doing was just plain staring.

I felt frozen. I shouldn't have been so shocked, I shouldn't have found hearing someone saying that out loud so hard to face, but it chilled me to the bones that he knew so much about this, so much about _me_. I had searched the young man in front of me for any signs of deceit, and failed to find them. Something about the calm he had possessed seemed deeply worrying.

It shouldn't have been hard.

It _shouldn't_ have….

"Will you tell me what's going on?" Killua sounded impatient now. "What the hell does that mean?"

My lips opened, but the words had no will to come out. I stared down at my reflection in the puddle of water on the ground. My lined face was ghastly pale, my irises were visibly trembling. I looked like I was in the final throes of a terminal illness in a matter of seconds.

Taking advantage, the beanie guy jumped until he was a couple of feet far from us.

I just followed his face, looking for something, looking for answers. And while my mouth was still open in an incredible shock, I couldn't have said why or where I got the sense that this was a critical point. I had to force the words out of my throat. "H-how?"

He was still wearing that cold smile.

He took a step backwards, maybe trying to escape.

Like a magnet, I moved with him, without any hesitation, without any decision having been made; just as if the internal debate had been pretense and illusion, the true controller of my movements was no longer me.

Then I felt fingers around my left arm, too warm against my cold, shivering skin.

Killua's face was in my line of vision again. "What are you doing? You have your necklace back, let's go back now."

The figure of the guy almost disappeared in the shadows of the tall trees.

"No, wait," I said, terrified. I tried to walk, but my legs wouldn't move. I was being held by a much stronger hand. "No, no, don't do that!" I didn't even know which part of myself had spoken, the pure fright and fury pouring through me. For an instant I thought that the sheer force of the anger might take magical wing and fly out to strike, burn the entire place down.

The blond's body was barely visible now, but for some reason I could still see him smiling.

Killua's hand pulled harder at my arm. "Why must you always run away from me?" he barked, his other hand grabbing my right arm forcefully, tugging on my elbow.

I threw his hand back at him as if it had burned me, my face hot with too many emotions to identify. I couldn't lash out, unable to purge the mess.

I frantically bobbed my head in the direction of the trees.

I no longer saw the guy.

I stilled. "No," I croaked.

Frustrated, Killua bent down slightly, lifted me off my feet and tossed me over his shoulder, like a goddamn rag doll. I blinked in confusion; it would have been a thousand years before I thought of that reaction. "Hey! _What the_—" I cried in protest, but he already started walking in a rather speedy pace. I kicked, screeched, cursed, hopelessly begging him to stop. Hell, I even pinched and swatted his back. I was going crazy, but not until I realized that he was running, and fighting back with my voice alone did nothing but exhaust me of all people.

My head was fuzzy. That guy knew something and I lost my chance to figure it out.

"Put me down!" I screamed. Oh, it felt good to scream.

Just when I was about to use my aura as a defensive weapon, I felt it once again. The atmosphere around us changed, charging with an electric, exhilarating pull, filling the space between us with static. It shocked me into oblivion, only literally this time. It relaxed and ignited at the same time—a weird, internal duality. Starting every two or three seconds, I felt the electric shock, like sharp nails passing all over my body and through my bloodstream from within; the spasms all resembled each other, and only differed in degree of severity and time of continuance, the lightest lasted about two seconds, and the most severe for five, but seemed to last an eternity.

The fuzziness in my head had become a thick fog.

The feeling was punishing. My thoughts crashed through my brain, fighting the urge to pass out. It was so warm in here, so loud, so colorful – too bright. My head began to swim, the fog closing in, inexorable, so enduring that I couldn't navigate my way out, and it made me so sick and scared I couldn't budge for most a half a minute it seemed to me—and then there was no light in sight; I couldn't see.

My body slumped.

It was so tiring.

I wanted to doze off.

I wanted to sleep.

I wanted—

It all stopped.

And Killua put me down on my feet.

I distantly paid attention to the auction building's entrance.

Drinking in the cool evening air of the streets made me realize how dizzy I was. My vision had been affected, and I was seeing red dots, a double of everything. I was beginning to feel nauseous, my head was spinning uncontrollably, and I was a little unsteady on my feet. More unsteady than usual. My head buzzed with excess nausea and irritation. I was going to be sick.

I was still in shock. I was numb. I knew that my feet were holding me upright, but I couldn't for the life of me feel my legs. I could observe and absorb but not articulate the feelings of my skin, because I was still in shock. So many questions clouded my mind. What just happened? What the hell was that electric feeling? Where did it come from? It was so horrible. I had to ask him about this later._  
_

Him. _Oh, him._

The spark of irritation returned at full force.

How did I tie myself to this flippant, insufferable person?

My hand was resting on the brick wall of the building, barely holding me up. As soon as my vision cleared, I risked a peek at Killua.

My eyes were glaring, my cheeks flushed with rage. It should have been the time to counterattack, but I could only catch my breath, as the two of us faced each other. I could still feel the remnants of electricity in my veins, which were boiling in exhilaration. Across from me, Killua was panting hard, but not from exhaustion, I faintly realized. His face was glistening with sweat like dew, his hair wetted into sleek silver locks around his face, his shoulders visibly trembling. I paled. _Shit, he's angry—with me._ I blinked at him rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate.

"Are you seriously mad at me?" I asked, bemused. My voice sounded brittle and bitter.

That only seemed to increase Killua's fury. His eyes met mine for a second, but he said nothing. In and out, he kept breathing.

"What?" I gave him a hard look, but I doubt it was very effective. Killua's face dropped into his hand. "Oh, whoa, what now, you're not gonna talk? How on earth will you ever annoy me?" I asked sarcastically, my voice sounding alarmingly scratchy. "Oh, wait a minute, I _know_. You can shoulder-carry me again against my will, which by the way is _toootally_ acceptable for anyone over the age of six."

"You know what, Yuki," he growled. His hand let go of his face as he turned to glare knives and daggers at me, commanding harshly, "Shut _up_."

A huge part of my brain screamed _What?_ in indignation wasn't anywhere near loud enough to reach my lips.

"Look, I don't know what you're trying to do to me, but it's gotten nowhere near tolerable," he shouted, glowering at me. "I can deal with your hate and disdain, with your bitterness and mishandling, but _not_ your stupidity. I don't know what that guy said. I don't _care_ what that guy said, I don't care if what he said was meant to offend your persona or your hair or your damn earlobes, I know that you need to get your shit back together for once. For_ once_, just get into a stress-free state, and stop making choices when you feel anxiety, nervous or upset, just stop acting rashly, for God's sakes. You really have no regard for your own safety. It drives me crazy." His eyes were like stones. "Do you enjoy driving me crazy? Wait, don't answer that." He took a deep breath.

My jaw seemed locked, like it would take a massive effort to make my lips move again.

"T-that's hypocritical!" I sneered at him. "What about when you almost completely lost your mind back there?"

"That was different, I wasn't trying to get _my_self in trouble!" He closed his eyes briefly, and I saw a myriad of emotions cross his face. When he reopened them, his expression was bleak. "There's gotta be a hundred reasons why I don't knock you out sometimes. Right now I can't think of one."

I blanched. _Shit_. I looked down at myself, my palms were hardly pressed against the damp wall as well as my back. My thoughts were all haywire and jumbled, echoing and bouncing off the inside of my skull. My heart clenched anew and released a fresh wave of cold worry.

I glanced at him and he was staring at me, his eyes blazing. I'd never felt so small.

"Are you… going to?" I said, amazed that my voice was almost steady.

His eyes widened slightly, and he blinked, his angry expression suddenly fading. "No!" He gave me the don't-be-ridiculous look. "This is your life and I can wait for that moment when I say 'I told you so', right now I'm just asking you to think before doing anything dangerous and hurt yourself by putting yourself at unnecessary risk. Stop, think, _think again_, then act. Simple. This rule will save you a lot of regrets." He scowled down at me, making me feel like an errant child – again. I was all gushing and breathy, though.

I would argue with him, but he was pretty worked up, and I didn't want to push him any further. The thought made me feel surprisingly uncomfortable.

But I couldn't resist one comment.

"Doesn't mean you can drag me to places against my will. I'm not a damsel in distress."

"Do you want to fight about that, too?" he snapped.

"I wasn't aware we were fighting. I thought we were just communicating," I mumbled petulantly. I knotted my hands behind my back, fleeing his gaze, watching my wriggling foot very, very intently. So much for my not-acting-like-a-child mantra.

Killua closed his eyes again as he struggled to contain his temper. I swallowed and watched him anxiously. God, could we ever have a normal conversation without it disintegrating into an argument? It was exhausting. Dealing with him was exhausting.

He sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his hair before he turned to me again. His entire demeanor changed in a nanosecond. "Look," he said, and I braced myself for another scolding fit. "I'm going to say this once. You need to hear it. I don't want anything to happen to you. I know that all you want in this life is to hurt me, just… don't do it like this."

_Oh._ I gasped. That left me speechless, withering under his stare.

I gazed at him and he looked contrite, sincere… he looked like my Killua.

In such a short time, just like that, he'd become so, so dear to me. And just like that, I thought about apologizing, but my subconscious instantly screamed at me in disapproval. I suddenly wanted to tell him everything, about what happened in that place two years ago, about what I thought that guy meant, and why it terrified me. But then I remembered that I shouldn't, and with the realization came a sad and lonely melancholy gripping and tightening around my heart.

I frowned, trying to brush off the feeling.

"I'm tired of arguing," I confessed.

"Me, too." His response was quick. I was winded by his admission this whole night.

"It's all your fault! Because you're a stubborn and nasty and cantankerous and moody and difficult doofus," I accused, the words spilling out of me in a rush. Killua narrowed his eyes at me, but I was no longer intimidated by him. Well, only a little. I boldly leveled his gaze, determination set in my eyes, not blinking or backing down.

"Doofus?" he repeated in stunned surprise as his expression changed to one of amusement.

_Goddamn it. I am mad at you, man, do not make me laugh._

"Yes." I struggled to maintain my look of moral outrage.

"Doofus," Killua said again, tasting the word. This time his lips twitched with a repressed smile.

"Do _not_ make me laugh when I am mad at you!" I shouted. And then he smiled, a genuine, full-toothed, heartfelt, face-splitting smile, and I couldn't help it. "Just because I have a stupid damn grin on my face doesn't mean I'm not mad as hell at you."

His smile slowly died, but his face softened whatsoever. "I need to change," he realized, looking down at the bloody side of his pants. "Some girl wounded me because she doesn't realize she's so lousy at aiming." _Oh, that._

"She's quite good at aiming, actually. You just need to stop standing in her way…" I shot back, lingering on the last word.

He smirked at me, but the crinkling around his eyes showed me that I shouldn't feel relieved yet. "She better stop pushing my buttons, then," he warned as he walked away from me. "It's for her own good, trust me." I frowned at his back. Only he could sound so endearingly calm and so threatening at the same time.

I watched as he disappeared inside the building.

I then realized that our emotional relationship was a lot like planning an elaborate, Italian dinner: we might spend our morning screwing up batch after batch of pasta, but come six, we'd have it ready, because we'd start over, try again until we got it right.

I exhaled. I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath all that time.

I tucked my necklace inside my dress. My mind was suddenly buzzing, paralyzed with so many questions. I subconsciously started linking tonight's events. I made so many foolish decisions. Buying this dress would be on the top list.

I _was_ a lost cause. Killua was right – again.

"I thought he'd never leave," a voice spoke to the silence of the streets. From somewhere very near. I whipped my head around, searching for it. My eyes flickered to the alley beside the building, and then my face went ashen. There he was, leaning against the wall, his beanie hat—more worn and tattered now—was back over his head, making him even more distinguished in the dark. His tone was different now. It sounded clipped and formal, not his usual pithy, kinky style that we previously witnessed.

From a very tiny part of my brain – probably where my subconscious dwelled – came the thought: _he's back for you_.

I scowled at him.

"You and I have unfinished business, Miss," he noted, his tone alarmingly polite and serious.

He didn't look any less worse that I did. He looked pretty messed-up, but seemed too composed for someone who'd just had his ass handled for him. He stood there, proud and bold, eying me speculatively, as if he knew all about my desperation, my fairly growing need to know the truth. I needed answers. I was driven by my curiosity, my apprehension and my fear. These were not temporary feelings, I knew more than to call them that.

That guy knew something about me, and I was aching to find out more about it. He probably wanted me to know, too, otherwise he wouldn't have come back.

He tilted his head upwards, grinning his wicked grin, like he knew about my dilemma and was waiting for me to make up my mind about this, but he was so relaxed as if he already fished through my mind and knew about my decision before I did. It was too disturbing.

My instincts kicked in and my intuition flared automatically, my eyes narrowing and my heart sped up as my anger rose.

I looked around me. No one was there._ Take your chance_, my subconscious sneered at me, loud and demanding. I couldn't see the great benefit of the idea. It was preposterous, but I didn't kick it out of my head.

He turned his head down from the sky to regard me, and I saw, in the faint light of the alley, that he was smiling – or at least half his face was smiling. He darted his eyes to the left, and I could tell that meant he wanted me to follow after him.

So I did.

I kept a wry distance between us as I followed him into the dark and through the stinky alleys. His behavior never indicated any intention to have another fight. He was silently heading to the place where we had encountered him few minutes ago, and the sense of déjà vu that that I had suddenly was not because of the memory of few minutes ago, but of a much darker one.

The silence stretched, in the cold and the night.

Until I heard a distant humming. It started as a simple children's lullaby. Lullaby, goodnight, or goodbye….

The more we got closer to that place, the more the sound got clearer and stronger. We had not spoken a single word until we arrived. There had only been the humming.

This tune was hummed by a soft voice, without variation, over and over, seven times, to establish an underlying pattern.

My déjà vu increased sharply when I lay my eyes on the huge, ancient, rough-barked and many-limbed maple tree. A sudden burst of fear tore through me.

The humming continued. The person put certain elaborations upon the theme. The humming became too slow, with long pauses in between, so that the listener's mind helplessly waited and waited for the next note, the next phrase. And then, when that next phrase came, it was so out of key, so unbelievably awfully out of key, not just out of key for the previous phrases but sung at a pitch which did not correspond to any key, that you would have to believe this person had spent hours deliberately practicing their humming just to acquire such perfect anti-pitch.

The guy stopped and turned his face to me. His smile, or half-smile, had disappeared. His eyes were watching me, but I felt his stare raking all over me, like I was spinning on a swivel chair.

And the horrible, horrible humming was impossible to ignore. It was similar to a famous lullaby, something I'd definitely heard before, but it departed from that pattern unpredictably, never in any constant pattern that would permit the humming to fade into the background. My brain couldn't prevent itself from expecting the anti-musical phrases to complete, nor prevent itself from noticing the surprises.

For a moment, I felt peace sweep through me. It was the peace of lying beneath my bed duvets, of sitting on my rooftop and feeling safe. And yet…there was falseness to the emotion, and in my thoughts, I heard a sharp, whip-like command: _be calm. _

"Who are you?" I managed to ask, but couldn't form more words, for the sound hammered over my head, burning my attention and fueling my anger.

The only possible explanation for how this mode of humming came to exist was that it was deliberately designed by some unspeakably cruel genius who woke up one day, feeling bored with ordinary torture, who decided to handicap himself and find out whether he could break someone's sanity just by humming at them.

The guy in front of me took off his hat and threw it gently on the muddy ground. The gash over his cheekbone from earlier was on full display, blood trailing down his face like a single tear.

I couldn't stop listening to the unimaginably dreadful humming as he continued to stare at me in that same disturbing way, his lethal presence felt equally horrible whether he looked at me directly or let it hover at the corner of my vision.

My heart pounded painfully in my chest.

Distracted, I faltered, and the guy struck, cold and precise as a viper. He shoved at my chest, and I went flying back to that tree. I quickly regained my balance, but he was already rushing toward me.

He feinted, and in my rage—in my growing confidence over the fact that I'd not lost yet—I fell for deception. In an instant, he'd locked my arms behind my back and slammed me to my knees with such strength that my kneecaps were buried through the ground, into the wintry mud.

The humming stopped.

There was a long wait. Several long seconds passed as he didn't shift a muscle. His grip was hard and tight.

I struggled, trying to move my arms. Each time I felt the pressure of his hands, but it couldn't cut through the intensity of my anger, which burned like venom, drowning out all else.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him grinning still, a tense, predatory look on his face. It was one of the wolf just before it closed its hungry jaws on the cornered rabbit.

Anger returned to fear – small chills were spreading out from my spine and running over my skin.

The humming began once more.

And then I smelled it – her. Floral scent of freesias and roses.

I looked around me, my lip curling.

My muscles locked defensively as I spun my head around, the acrimonious waft of wind slapping my cheeks relentlessly. My eyes darted left to right. I sniffed the air, trying to determine where the another person was. The scent was way too near.

"_Yuuuuki_," a soft, girlish voice sang from beyond the tree line.

My heart pounded faster.

I faced her direction.

I glanced at her hands; noticing the carefully manicured fingers and bright pink nail polish that matched her bright pink lipstick, realizing that it was exactly the same shade. Her wavy locks spilled out into the wind, a flow of her blond waves, colored like late-afternoon sunshine. Next, my eyes traveled up the length of her thin, sleeved arm to her shoulders and then to her eyes.

_Th-that face… it can't be… _My eyes darted between her and the boy. Twice. I had to do a double take because the resemblance was so uncanny. It was like looking into a giant mirror. How come I couldn't see that before? Same strawberry blonde hair, same clear hazel eyes, same curve on the mouth. Same everything.

_Are they—_

I glanced between the two of them until the realization dawned upon me, like a bad movie, a stupid average situation that turned into a nightmare.

Aimi smiled and bowed to me with heavy irony.

* * *

**_A/N: I'm sorry for ending it there. Aren't I mean. _**

**_Thank you for reading, reviewing, reccing, and all sort of nice stuff you guys do.  
_**

**_Eventful chapter that is. What was your favorite part about it?_**

**_Leave your thoughts?  
_**


	32. Snow Man

**A/N:** Huge, huuuge thanks to everyone for putting up with extra long delays, extra long chapters, no review replies and just me, in general. You are amazing.

To avoid any confusion, almost all the flashbacks in this chapter happened in the week before the wedding.

This is going to be the very last chapter from Killua's PoV. I hope you enjoy it.**  
**

**_Chapter song:_** Try by Zach Berkman

* * *

**_33. Snow Man_**

_"What the hell are you doing?"_

_Killua seemed to freeze where he stood, his __hand clutching the knob_ of the door. Gusts whipped through his hair as his eyes_ flicked upwards to the source of the wind. Yuki was standing on the sill of the open wide window in her bedroom, facing outward, seemingly prepared to jump. She looked at him. He __shielded his eyes from the glare of the midday sun as he stared up at her. Even from this distance, he was dazzled by her beaming smile and sparkling blue eyes. _

_____"Thinking," she answered simply, shrugging. "I think better when I'm on a higher ground."  
_

_____As he closed the door and walked to her, Killua said, "Get down from there. You will fall down in a minute."  
_

_____She scoffed through her nose. "I had to jump off a blimp during the Hunter Exam. Of course I won't fall."  
_

_____Killua __edged a little closer to the window, placing himself directly in front of her. ______"The examiner took you sky-diving?" he asked, very seriously.  
_

_____Yuki laughed a high, clear laugh. "Yeah, right." With one hand gripping the edge of the window's frame, she leaned forward, balancing precariously as she hung above him. Her dark hair fanned out behind her in the gentle breeze. _  


_____"Would you catch me if I fall?" she asked.  
_

_____Killua arched his eyebrow. "You__ can just jump down and avoid the whole falling and catching situation,_" _he suggested, muscles tensed in preparation. He knew how unpredictable she could be._  


_______She flashed him that cheeky, signature grin of hers. _"Would you catch me if I fall?" she _persisted_.  


_____There __was a hint of a smirk_ on his face. "Would I?"  


_____She smirked back. "Would you?"  
_

_____Killua __sighed __frustratedly_, although his lips tugged into an involuntary smile. "Maybe you should try and find out."

* * *

**Later that night: Killua's PoV_  
_**  
I would never get to where I was going.

I would never get there.

I ran and ran, but it was all in slow motion. I was panicking, my heart like a grenade with the pin pulled. I wouldn't make it. I never made it. And I was tired, I was so tired.

I was so…

But I had to keep going. I didn't know where I was going but I had to get there. I made my way down the rocks, sliding, slipping, trying to get there. I wished, I thought. My feet were clumsy, moving too fast. Not fast enough.

Running was the only thing I could do; the only option I had. The distinction between reality and nightmare, sanity and madness, human and non-human had blurred. Running was the only thing that kept me focused and the thing I had anymore that distracted me. My speed was a tad more aggressive than usual, but altogether necessary.

I was holding something. Someone.

A body. A broken, small form.

There was only one sound in my ears.

**_Thump-thump-thump._**

Too late.

I wanted to reach out and steal back the time I'd wasted. To go back to that place and change just one decision, but it was too late.

**_Thump-thump-thump._**

It was already too late. It was always too late.

I ran for you.

For me.

It was inevitable.

It was impulsive.

I looked down at the broken, small form in my arm. For once you looked completely at peace: your face no longer displayed any of the pain from seconds ago, neither did it show the inner turmoil that had so often troubled you. Your body slumped. Your heart slowed―nothing left for it to pump. Dry veins emptied their last into my trembling arms. Airless lungs collapsed. And it all felt so, so wrong.

A voice inside my head shouted.

_What have you done?_

_**Thump-thu―**_

No. No, no, no.

I heard your heart flutter and fail, felt the final shudder, and there was no doubt, no hope of doubt that you were gone. You couldn't be alive.

You were dead now, I told myself for the thousandth time. You died now, right here; in my arms.

I went to my knees, the dry dusty earth did nothing to cushion the impact. It reverberated through my muscles, punishing my bones. My arms relaxed against my will, it hurt to move them, they'd been in this place for so long. Bent around this body, for so long. This sticky, tacky, limp body that used to be alive. Looking less and less like the girl I knew. Nothing but a splitting image of yourself. Now it was quiet, unresponsive. Bloody. It wasn't you anymore. It was something cold, very cold and empty.

But it was still your scent, no doubt, there was no mistaking that, but it was so strange and different. Twisted with your usual warm and pleasant smell was a darker, heavier one.

I looked around blindly, panic seizing me once more, metal chains that shackled me to the invisible currents that pushed and pulled; that took, took, took. My thoughts began to die, sailed away, and this time, that voice was a whisper.

_What have you done?_

Everywhere I looked, blood.

I wished, for the millionth time, that it was mine.

But it wasn't.

* * *

**Day 1 - After midnight  
**  
___**05:25…**_

Spinning.

Everything was spinning: the walls, the ceiling, the floor, everything. Moving on an untuned path-running at full speed and tilting at odd angles.

They took you from my arms, untangled your frozen fingers from my shirt.

Doctors and nurses moved and talked. They scrambled around and shouted things about blood transfusions and pulmonary edema, sticking you with numerous needles and tubes. Blood was still all over your lips. My head was spinning. You were dying. They needed to stop it. You needed to stop it. You promised not to die. You promised.

"Push the Nitropress," someone yelled. They injected things into your IV. The machines continued to make noise. The doctors talked loudly, not arguing but trying to decide who needed to be in charge of what.

"Get him out of here." I heard one of the doctors say. Two people, a man and a woman, stood on either side of me and put a hand on my shoulder. They didn't want me to see you die. I didn't fight them back.

The machine monitoring your heart started making a noise. It was one long beep. I looked over and saw the flatline.

"Asystole!"

"Start compressions and grab the crash cart!"

The flutter of activity began to move as my own heart stopped beating. My eyes moved back and forth between the girl on the bed and the flatline on the screen. You were dead. Dead. Somehow a million thoughts ran through my head like a tornado raging across an open field, a swirl of confusion and pain.

They pushed me back.

Away.

The long beep rang in my ears.

_I hate you._

_I can't do this._

_Don't go._

_You promised._

_I will never forgive you._

_This wasn't supposed to happen._

_How could you?_

_I hate you._

_I hate you._

_I hate you._

_I can't lose you._

A lot happened in fifty-four seconds. In fifty-four seconds, I thought a million thoughts. I died a thousand deaths. Fifty-four seconds felt like a lifetime.  
You were dead. Your heart stopped beating. You stopped breathing. You broke your promise.

I watched as they placed the paddles on your chest and shocked your diseased heart, causing your upper body to lift off the hospital bed. I watched as the alarms continued to ring.

They shocked you again. The sound made your whole body shudder.

"Normal sinus rhythm," someone said as I saw the flatline begin to form small peaks. The machine beeped. Beeping to each beat of your heart.

"Lucky," the cardiologist murmured in disbelief. "Get her into an OR," he ordered, now the one in charge.

I blinked. I breathed. I backed up against the wall. I couldn't believe it held me up. I couldn't believe anything could hold me. I let myself slide down.

I watched the blood as gravity pulled it; drop by fat pendulous drop, from my clothes to the cold floor. These clothes only had the power I gave to them.

And the power I gave to anything was the power of discontented destruction.

Fifty-four seconds were too long for me.

The wave of guilt, the one I'd been trying to ignore for all this time, hit me like an anvil.

It invaded and spread, like a disease.

I tried to rediscover concepts I thought I understood. Friendship, calm, safety, security. Any concepts that once used to hold me together. I failed. The only thing I fully rediscovered was my anger. There were no tools to tamp down my rage, my discomfort, the injustice that dogged me, the memories that plagued me. There was nothing except stalwart forward motion and the constant goddamn vigilance.

Guilt was a disease and I was its hostage.

I was seeking to forget everything and anything, but I couldn't. I just had to accept it. Time to give up. Time to open old wounds and sew them shut. Time to mend the rip.

"That's enough," a voice came to interrupt my thoughts. It was level and steady, but commanding non the less. Jei was suddenly there, standing over me. Some blood was still on his shirt, the gun still in his hand, as he stared down at me. I know that whatever he said, I didn't want to hear.

His eyes moved to mine. "You chose to fight. Staying was your choice right from the beginning. You chose to fight for her. This is the fight. There aren't any shades of gray; either you win or lose. You're fighting for something, because you believe you're fighting for right. You fight to win. Right now you're leading yourself to the open road of loss, can't you see that? You're losing yourself in the midst of this self-loathing. What happened isn't your fault. Cut this shit out already."

_I don't even know what happened. _

I was too late.

Jei's mouth was tight. "You're going to know. Soon. When she wakes up, I'm going to tell you. I can't tell you what happened without her permission. It's not my right to give out something like that."

I bent my knee and rested my arm and head on it. I was going to throw up. Or hit someone. Or both.

Jei sighed. "Anyway, I called Gon. He'll be here in a minute."

_Gon._

I looked up at him. "Really?" I asked hopefully.

He squeezed my shoulder. "Really."

"The worst is over," Jei declared. "It's all over." He got up and slid the gun inside his pocket. "I have to make some calls. I'm probably going to be scolded like a kit because of my mouse-brained idea to come with you," he groaned. "Are you going to be fine here?" he asked. I nodded, even though I knew it was lie. "Well, stay fine for now. She's not going to wake up for a while, so you'll have the time to throw all the tantrums that you need later."

My accelerated pulse pumped sludgy slow blood into my brain. Blowing it up like a balloon, blowing it full to bursting, the only thing reaching me was the slight but steady nausea starting to ripple through me.

You probably didn't know this, but that moment, I hated you. Even though I ached for you and ached for your forgiveness, I was no longer sure I could give you mine.

It was such a shame you weren't awake to witness your damn revenge.

* * *

_"What's the matter?"_

_"Hey," Jei greeted when Killua walked up to his table near the back of the restaurant. As Killua pulled back a chair, Jei rolled his eyes. "Sorry, okay?"_

_"For what?" Killua asked, eyebrows raised, but the answer was clear from the outrageous noise—he refused to call it singing—and Jei's grimace. He looked behind him and sure enough, he knew the girl standing on stage, screeching that famous pop song into the microphone. Killua froze in his tracks, unable to even speak. "Is she drunk?" he eventually said, his voice quivering with suppressed laughter on the last word._

_"No, worse. Sugar rush. Too much Coke," Jei answered, his palm on his forehead. "After getting back from her shopping trip with Leorio's girl, she went to your room and finished all the chocolate—" Killua gave him a painful look "—I know, I'm sorry for that, too," Jei said, nodding ruefully. "So then she suggested we come here to try all the 'goodies' of this restaurant. I gotta say it got out of control after the third piece of cake. Damn, that girl can eat."_

_Later on, after they'd—_she'd_—been kicked out of the restaurant, they slowly walked back to the auction building because Yuki kept stumbling everywhere and tripping Jei, who had put her arm around his shoulders. _

_"You're going to fall down and break your damn skull," Jei grumbled, trying to keep her steady. It didn't help that she was a head taller than him.  
_

_"Tch, no," Yuki chortled with an eye-roll. "I won't fall and I won't die, I promise. I don't die. Dying is so overrated. I'm only going to die in… 2008."  
_

_Jei raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Why 2008?"  
_

_"Because it's so even! You only have to add the 2 and the 8 and then __it's ten and then there's the zeroes!" she replied, like that explained everything. Killua shook his head with a hint of a smile, keeping his hands in his pockets, __because_ he didn't quite know what else to do with them. At one point, Yuki reached over and tapped him on the shoulder.

_"Yes, Yuki?" he asked, not really bothering to hide his amusement._

_"You're a handsome guy," she told him. She raised her eyebrows and nodded seriously, saying, "No, really you are," as if he argued with her, even though he hadn't said a word._

_He was about to reply when she said, "Jei, you are, too. Not handsome. Pretty. Not pretty. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Even your nostrils are pretty."_

_Jei and Killua shared a look over her head. She was so, so blitzed out of her mind._

_"Thanks," Jei said._

_She proceeded to trip, nearly falling to the ground before Killua grabbed her._

_"Alright," he said, torn between laughing and sighing. They'd only walked two blocks in the last ten minutes, and this had got to speed up. "Yuki, get on my back. I'll piggy-back you home."_

_She grinned and nodded enthusiastically when he moved to stand in front of her, crouching down, so she wouldn't have to jump as high. It took three tries, but she finally jumped high enough. Killua latched his hands onto her thighs, then gave a little jump-boost so she was sitting higher on his back, which made her squeal. They walked at a normal pace before she leaned to his ear and whispered, "You really are handsome, you know."_

_"Yuki," Jei drawled. "Stop flirting with Killua."_

_Instead of being embarrassed, Yuki flashed him a glare from behind Killua's shoulder. "It's not flirting when you don't realize it's flirting."_

_"You're high," Killua told her. "Every guy looks handsome to a high girl."_

_"I think you're handsome when I'm sober, too," she said, blinking and nodding. "But I'll never tell you that, 'cause well, don't tell anyone, but… sober me is a cynical bitch."_

_Killua finally laughed, shaking his head in wonder, because he had this ridiculous thought right then; he couldn't quite believe he even thought it, and he freaked himself out a bit—a lot—and whatever she said afterwards made him smile in a way that only made him think it more before he frantically pushed the thought away. And he'd never tell her this in a million years—except maybe in about ten or so—but that was the time he realized that she might be the girl whom he'd like to share all his chocolate with._

* * *

"Killua!"

.

.

.

"_Killua!_"

I blinked back the memory, my throat suddenly feeling tight.

"Gon?" I couldn't recognize my own voice.

Gon stepped just close enough for me to see the brown of his eyes and forget the red on my hands.

"What happened?" he asked, panic flooding his face.

His question caught me off guard, my throat still tight, bubbling words a length of burning rope around my neck as shock rendered my tongue useless.

"You're freaking me out," Gon said, voice trembling but firm. "Is it true what Jei said?"

I bristled against the old bitterness. A sick wave rolls through my chest.

I felt it in my chest. Hollow disgust and self-recrimination. An itch against my lungs, in my ears, and over my eyebrows, making them scrunch into each other.

I fisted my hair and tugged. There was no place that offered relief…

"Dammit, son! Are you bleeding?" a female voice screeched loudly in the hallway, catching our attention. She was a middle-aged nurse with grayish hair and a sympathetic expression on her face. "Get up, get up, get up!" She motioned with her index finger for us to stand. "Are you injured? Boy, is your friend injured?" she asked Gon with a thick accent.

Gon hoisted me up on my feet. "Uhh, I don't think so, ma'am. He's here for someone."

"Oh!" The nurse's shoulders sank slightly as she stepped closer. "Oh my god, look at all this blood," she said, her eyes moving all over me, and there I found the sympathy in its full glory. I tensed up, thinking she might try to hug me.

She understood that I couldn't deal with her affection, because instead she touched my hair, sweeping it off my forehead, out of my eyes. "Come with me, son. Lemme stitch the wound on your leg." My eyes momentarily widened at her ability to see that, but quickly pushed that aside. "Boy, help your friend out. I won't have him scaring off the children here." Her eyes softened when they were back at my face. "Dammit, son, you look depressing."

Gon gripped my arm and nudged me to walk. Her words float through my mind. I didn't like them. I didn't like this… exposed, vulnerable feeling.

And the blood was just pissing me off. It drenched me and sucked me into places I didn't want to see again.

After the nurse finished the stitching process, she gave a pile of clean clothes and led me to a more private spot. I cleaned myself up, and threw out the clothes I was wearing into the nearest trash, wanting to get rid of every part of tonight.

Splashing cold water on my face and neck helped. With every drop falling from my face, I felt lighter, brighter, a sort of catharsis washing over me. Looking back at my reflection in the mirror, I looked deceptively strong and confident. I threw some water on my hair and raked a hand through the wet strands. They were rough and resilient from the recent haircut, and I knew that I had to be the same way for the time being.

* * *

_Yuki tugged on a lock of Killua's hair—which was a little difficult because of how short it was—then roughly turned his head to the side so she could thoroughly inspect. She did the same for the other side.  
_

"_It's too short, is it?" Killua complained. "I asked the barber to buzz on a seven, but he must have done a six—maybe even a four on some locks."_

_Yuki was still curiously inspecting his head as she said, "I have no idea what that means."_

"_When the barber cuts your hair, the settings are for how close cropped it is. One is the shortest—"_

"_I really don't care," Yuki interrupted, standing up and leaning over him so she could see the top of his head. He was about to protest, but the position put his face in the direct line of her cleavage, so he just… enjoyed for a few moments. "It makes your head look smaller," she noted as she sat back down._

"_Right?" Killua grimaced. "And it also makes my chin look huge. Like I'm freaking Leorio."_

"_You're freaking Leorio? Should I be worried?" she teased, which made him laugh. _

"_You know what I mean," he said, running a hand through his hair. "It looks horrible."_

_Yuki rolled her eyes and sipped her tea. "You're such a girl, Killua. It'll grow back in a few weeks; and even if it doesn't, you look just fine."_

_Killua smirked. "Do I look _handsome_?" he drawled a little on the word._

_She put the glass down and gave him a blank look. "Why are you asking me like that?"_

"_Because last night you called me handsome."_

_"I did? Was I out of my mind?" she asked, and she was joking but laughed when he confirmed that yes, she was. "Well, hold on to that memory because it's never happening again," she said and he smiled._

"_Where are Gon and that brat?"_

_Yuki looked around the reception room exaggeratedly. "Not here."_

"_Thanks, genius," he huffed. "I just meant, do you know what they're up to?"_

_She shrugged indifferently. "Probably hiding from the horror that is your haircut."  
_

_Killua groaned, "That was unnecessary."_

"_You're right, it was. I'm sorry."_

"_Make it up to me."_

_She narrowed her eyes. "How?"_

"_Come with us tonight."_

_Yuki snorted. "Hmm." She held __her hands up like scales_ and moved them up and down as if she was trying to find a balance. "Staying here and handling the vicious, cruel and monstrous guests… or go shopping for tuxedos with two nagging boys and Gon…" She pursed her lips and pretended to weigh the difference. "I prefer the former."  
_  
Killua smiled smugly. "Okay, then tell me I'm handsome. Your choice."_

_She rolled her eyes about three times, sighing exasperatedly before mumbling, "Killua, you're handsome." The tone she said it in made her sound like she was admitting something incredibly painful._

_Senrtisu passed by them and saw Killua's hair. She liked the haircut._

"_Really?" he asked skeptically._

_She nodded enthusiastically. "I really like it. It's so clean cut. It makes you look so… handsome!"_

_She didn't get why he started laughing._

* * *

Gon remained by my side as I walked to your room in hostile silence, fighting to keep control of myself, to bottle the clawing frustration, resentment, powerlessness. It was exactly like being nine again.

You always brought out the kid in me, ever since the first time we'd met.

The door creaked open and for a moment, my eyes were dazzled. The huge, floor-to-ceiling window was blinding. The curtains were all the way open, and the turbulent clouds outside slid past like a river. Once my eyes adjusted, I saw you.

I realized I was beginning to feel again.

It hurt. For a second, I allowed myself to believe I was through with the hurting, through with feeling anything. When I carried your lifeless body, I thought that nothing could ever hurt again because nothing could rival that moment.

I'd been wrong.

They had cleaned the blood from your face, but you still looked completely vulnerable with the tube in your mouth and the small oxygen tubes sticking up your nose. You looked wasted and gaunt, barely a shape underneath the blanket. Though closed, your eyes were hollow, and your lips were cracked. The white that surrounded you was the flat sickly white of the hospital walls and sheets. Sickly pale, frail and very much dull.

I blinked, hoping that if I opened my eyes again, you would be yourself again. The girl lying on the bed wasn't someone I knew. Something was so wrong and I didn't understand much. Seeing you like this was no different than seeing you lying cold and dead.

Time abruptly gaped open, a yawning chasm, and I found myself gripping the door frame, like I was at risk of falling away, vanishing into the dark.

Wide-eyed, Gon moved to your side of the bed and stroked your hair. "She looks so small," he said. I could see it in his eyes; he desperately wanted to ask me about tonight, but what could I tell him? I couldn't tell him what I did or what you did. You probably didn't know that you and him were very similar. You two always screwed yourself over, and left me handling the aftermath, all alone.

The old nurse's voice startled me out of my self-induced guilt trip. "The abdominal wound she received resulted in grade-three blood loss, haematemesis, nausea, disorientation, and periodic loss of consciousness. The doctors repaired the radial nerve damage. Aside from the severe blood loss, deep cuts and bruises, her vitamin levels and protein levels are too low. That's why she needs to remain sedated for a while."

Hearing that was strange, very strange. I only found myself growing more disappointed in you. I asked myself questions like, _How dare you do that to yourself? How dare you be that stupid? How could you allow someone to hurt you like that? _I couldn't stop wondering about the reason why you didn't fight back. You could fight. I underestimated you all the time, but I knew you could fight. What happened to you tonight? You could have taken them. They weren't as strong as you. Why didn't you? I didn't have any answers, so how could I give them to Gon? You left me confused and helpless.

I closed my eyes and tugged on my hair. _How dare you?_

I kept avoiding to look into Gon's eyes, even though I could feel them follow every step I made. His unwavering gaze was like looking at the barrels of two guns; piercing right through me. We sat in silence for a few minutes. The only noise coming from the machines that were monitoring you. I sat in the chair near the foot of the bed and focused intently on the rise and fall of your chest.

_Damn you._

Damn you for not listening to me. Damn you for messing up with my mind. Damn you for not knowing what you wanted. Damn you for dragging me into this. Damn you for being so stupid. Damn you for making me feel like this. Damn you for not crossing the bridge I tried to build. Damn you for making my hopes useless. Damn you for making me care.

_Damn me._

Damn me for getting myself into this situation. Damn me for not being there when you needed me. Damn me for not knowing how to protect you. Damn me for not knowing what you wanted. Damn me for not knowing how to fix you. Damn me for letting you mess up with my mind. Damn me for not making any realistic hopes. Damn me for caring.

_Damn._

* * *

_Yuki and Killua chattered on their way to the wedding until he announced their arrival. As cheesy as it sounds, the room was quite like a fairytale. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and bathed the space in proper light of perfect intensity, the walls were painted a sparkling light gold and one wall was entirely mirrors. The floor itself was a polished hardwood that would suffer the brunt of many dancers on it soon. The scene was not much for Yuki's taste, but she was okay with that. Killua, being his typical noise-hater self, loosened his tie and cleared his throat, seemingly wishing to burn his face with lit cigarettes than be among this many Leorio's-level-of-loud crowd._

_Still, he felt comfortable enough to place his palm on Yuki's back. And she flinched. She didn't have butterflies—maybe just butterfly, one big schizophrenic one that fluttered around, half excited, half extremely nervous._

_But Yuki was kinda okay with that, too._

_Different people greeted them. Some they knew, some they 'thought' they knew, and some they had no clue. Later, Leorio approached them, a little unsteady on his feet and obviously drunk. "So… My wife, who is currently in the lady's room," Leorio said, randomly, "she'd kill me if she knew what I was doing, but I have to ask," he got closer to continue quietly, "tell me the truth. You guys made it official yet? Finally put a label on it?"_

_"I hate labels," Yuki said, trying to avoid his question._

_"I hate labels, too. They always get stuck to your fingers," Killua deadpanned._

_"And then when you try and take them off, they get stuck to themselves," she said, catching on._

_"Absolutely. And don't even get me started on printing on them." They both grinned like the smug, annoying idiots they were as Leorio glared at them._

_"Ha ha ha. Hilarious." Yuki was just about to be relieved that he'd dropped the subject when Leorio turned to her and asked, "Seriously, are you his girlfriend?"_

_Yuki turned to Killua. "I don't know," she said, loftily. "What, exactly, is a girlfriend?"_

_"I'm going to go out on a limb and say…" Killua mimicked her airy tone perfectly. "It's a girl who is a friend."_

_"Well, then! I've always been your girl friend!"_

_"Fine, whatever!" Leorio threw his arms in surrender. "Seriously, Killua, what are you doing? If I were you, and five years younger, I'd have made her my girlfriend ages ago."_

_Killua cocked an eyebrow at him. "Great job. In one fell swoop, you've hit on my date and insulted your bride."_

_"Psshh." Leorio waved his hands in the air. "But let me tell you something…" He leaned in to whisper in Killua's ear, "When there's a pretty girl standing next to you, waiting for your attention, act on it. If you're not claiming her, then others just might have to."_

_Killua turned and gave Yuki the strangest smile she'd ever gotten from him. He slipped an arm around her shoulder, saying so quietly that only she could hear him, "No, she's mine." When more people greeted them, he introduced her to each person with no description of who she was to him, just her name. He hadn't declared her as 'my girlfriend' or as 'my friend', but simply as 'mine'. She discovered later that she was more than just okay with that._

* * *

I pressed my fingers to my eyes, trying to push the memories away.

The only light in the room; the singular ray of muted citron that slices through the darkness lit the features of your face, highlighting dark lashes resting on high cheekbones. My lips tingled and my heart raced. I turned and closed my eyes, ending the scene in my head.

"Can I ask you something now?" Gon asked, leaning forward on his forearms.

"Yeah," I replied coolly. Something told me he wasn't about to ask me something I wanted to hear.

"What would you call what you feel for her right now?"

Silence settled over us then, tense, like hot summer rays without that much needed breeze.

I looked away from him to the morning light. A pair of birds flit around outside the window. They twittered and murmured, nuzzling and pecking gently at each other. They reminded me of you, how the top of your head felt under my chin.

I took a deep, contemplative breath. What did I feel for you? I felt protective. I felt fear and an strange need to protect you from anything that might bring you harm, including me. I felt in need of you. A need that was so unfathomable and strong, it guided my every move lately. My heart lurched again and I exhaled, trying to blow away the pinching inside my ribs. Some of your pieces were fitted snugly inside me, while all my pieces were built to guard you.

But I could never tell you that.

"Guilt." It was the easiest answer. The honest answer. "I feel guilty for everything that has happened to her. I want to make up for everything I've done to her, even if it's not something I could provide. I want to try and do it, though. I want what's best for her. I would have to say guilt best describes what I feel."

"Not love?"

"No, I won't let anyone have that kind of power over me."

"Love isn't about power," Gon disagreed.

"Love is a game. Counting on someone to stay with you, to never leave so you'll feel complete." I scoffed. "It's stupid. People leave. Choosing to love is just asking to be disappointed."

"Love is a feeling, Killua. You don't choose to do it. You _feel_ it."

"Everything is about power and control," I answered, the words sounding very familiar to my ears.

"Love is powerful," Gon insisted, frowning. "You make it sound like it only has the power to destroy."

I looked away as my chest constricted.

_Landmine._

"It destroys everything," I whispered, unwanted memories flashing before my eyes.

Gon's face contorted in real agony. "I'd like to think it has the power to heal, too," he said, hoping that if I believed nothing else, I'd believe that. "Either way, you can't control it. No matter how hard you try."

I ran an anxious hand through my hair. "I can't love. I don't possess the selflessness of love."

Gon ducked his head with a half-smile. His eyes, usually so serene, were dark with humor. Like I was a goddamn lying child.

"What?"

Gon shook his head. "Nothing."

I stared at him until he recanted.

"It's just… When you talk about her, you only think about what's best for her. You never mention what's best for you. And then you say that you can't be selfless." His brows furrowed. "You're confusing me and yourself."

I could feel my anger rising. I was suddenly empty of tolerance. My face was obstinate, lips pursed, eyes tight. "I can't bring myself to think about what's best for me."

"Why not?" He frowned again.

The pain in my chest was overwhelming. I rubbed the spot with the heel of my hand. "Because walking out of this door right now is what's best for me. I don't know why I've stayed for so long. I can't even remember the reason why I stayed. You should have warned me, but you didn't. You've watched me make mistake after mistake and you never stopped me," I hissed. Gon couldn't mask his shock, and I briefly saw some hurt behind the damn barrels of two guns. Looking into them hurt me more than all the bullet wounds in the world. I never threw the blame on someone else; this wasn't something I usually did, but my patience for the slow crumble of my life was over. I was done with this bullshit.

"I don't know what I did wrong. I thought I could help her, but all I did was make her life even worse," I continued. I quelled the tremor in my voice by giving it the hateful tone you knew so well. "I thought I could undo the damage I've done, but it feels like all I'm doing is finding new ways to lose her."

Gon looked at me for a moment before he smiled again. It wasn't a half smile this time, it was _his_ smile, the one that hid a very special thought or memory. "You know, Killua, I don't know much about books," he said sheepishly. "But Mito-san once told me that people are a lot like books. Those who come into our lives are given a quick glimpse of a few of our pages. If they like us, we decide to show me more pages, because we want them to see even the unedited parts; the ones we tidied up because of shame, embarrassment or because they're simply censored. What they do with our pages is uncertain. Some of them will make notes in margins, leave their marks upon our story in some way. But you see, the words that are printed, the ones that represent us as a person, they don't change without our permission."

I scowled, not knowing where this was going.

Gon leaned forward and gave me a small, sad smile before saying, "You had a huge impact on Yuki's life. Good and bad, no doubt. The good you has left a mark everywhere, but unfortunately, so has the bad you. Those contributions that made Yuki who she was, but some negative though-processes got hardwired into her pages. When the book is printed, there isn't really a way to alter it without going back to the original manuscript. Make a change. And print it again. The only person who can do that right now is Yuki. The only person who can rewrite your story and how it ends, is you. It's all about choices." He looked at your bed, the sad, distant look was still there. "I'm sure Yuki has taken bad decisions tonight. I'm also sure she had a reason to take them. Fortunately, they weren't bad enough to rip off all her pages. Maybe she needed to make these mistakes to be finally able to turn the page. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Gon's voice, trying to offer me self-righteous soapbox validation, felt like gravel ground into another open wound. Pebbles of his presumed morality abraded nerve and exposed bone. I wanted to tell him to save it ― but he was only soothing my paranoid thoughts, taking my side. Hovering in my corner like a good friend.

If I wanted to speak like him, though, I'd say that it would have been great if your book remained over the shelf. Picking up that book was one of my biggest mistakes. I shouldn't have known you or seen you or touched you. I shouldn't have―

No matter how bad I saw the end of this, it didn't help. It wasn't something I saw; it was something I felt. Like getting shot. You probably won't see the bullet zipping towards you. You hear the crack of weapon, and the next thing you know, you're on your knees.

"Don't do this," I said at last. "Stop. You don't get to do this right now."

Gon frowned once again. "Do what?"

"Give me hope. There's no point. It's way too late for that."

"That's not true."

"It is!" I jumped out of my seat and started pacing the terribly white, sterile room. My hand was quickly back in my hair, and the tension in my shoulders was building. "I didn't expect bad things to happen because I was just denying how bad this was. Like, you know when a car makes a weird, scraping sound? Because there's obviously something wrong with it, but its owner doesn't have enough money to fix it, or he's just too damn _pig-headed_ to ask someone for money, so he just keeps ignoring the sound. And when it gets too loud, he turns up the stereo to drown it out. That's me right now. I thought if I hoped or believed this wasn't a bad idea, it'd be okay, and by ignoring how terrible it was, it would somehow make it right. Now all the patience in the world won't cover up my malfunctions. If I were a car, I would be nothing but a junk right now."

Gon sighed sorrowfully. "Killua…"

"No! No, don't look at me like that! What the hell, Gon? I'm not telling you this so you can show me pity."

"I'm not—" he shouted, but glanced briefly at your bad, and went back to his quiet tone. "I'm not showing you pity. You're not pitiful. I feel _bad_ for you; not sorry for you. There's a difference."

"Well don't," I snapped, cracking my knuckles. My voice climbed as his sank. I was back to the rude, nasty, intolerable jerk that I was. I was ready to blurt every dumb thing my mind came up with. "I don't know why I said that. I didn't have to blame you, either. I don't blame you. It wasn't your fault. I don't know what to do right now. I don't even know if I took the right choices in the past two days. Well, excuse me, but I'm kind of new to this whole trying-to-win-back-the-girl-of-your-life thing."

Gon's eyes bulged out of their sockets. "Girl of your life?"

I stuttered. "Uhh, no —"

"I'm sure the right expression is _love_ of your life."

"That's an overused cliché," I replied defensively.

"Killua."

"I don't do clichés—"

"_Killua_."

"—they're corny, lazy and unoriginal."

Gon smiled his smile again. He studied my face with shrewd eyes, measuring the panic surging right underneath the surface of my skin. "Maybe it's not just the guilt, Killua."

"No, it is. I know this better than you do."

"Everyone is capable of love. I think you need investigate why you think you don't or can't."

I knew why. But the thought of having to be here and discuss my past was beyond unnerving. It would make me more irritable than I already was. It would push me to limits I would not be able to stand. Gon would have to bear the brunt of any delving into my darkness.

When I didn't say anything, he added, "You must look at what shaped your way of thinking in the first place."

"That's enough, Gon. Let it go before I completely lose my temper."

"Killua—"

"I'm out of here," I spat. I was unaware of my limits right now, and that would possibly turn our conversations into minefields. What I knew and didn't know tangled up, whirled around my head like a snowstorm.

Gon followed me to the door, mumbling something about how hard it was to put up with me sometimes.

No kidding. I couldn't put up with me either.

I opened the door of the room just in time to interrupt the heated argument Jei was having with one of the nurses.

"Visiting hours are over, and you are not family. I know you want to stay but rules are rules," she said.

I was going to protest but Jei did it first.

"Rules?" Jei sneered. "Who the hell decides who someone considers family? My fucking stepfather tried to kill me once. But I guess you'd let him spend the night if I was a patient and he was here, wouldn't you? This guy saved this girl's life and he has to go? How fucked up is that? It's ridiculous! He's staying! I don't give a shit about your fucking rules! He's staying!"

"Jei," Gon warned.

The nurse glared at us. "I understand your concern, but there is nothing I can do about the rules. I don't make the rules."

"You don't make the rules? _Shocking!_ Of course you don't make the rules, smartass. _I_ make rules! I work for a man who could buy this whole fucking hospital if I wanted to and fire your ass. How's that for rules?" Jei shot right back at her. He had that type of voice—the one I once thought could carry more power in the quiet, measured tones he used everyday. Until I heard him raise it, and then I understood that his mind-reading ability was not nearly his most powerful weapon.

"Jei!" Gon scolded in a tight whisper. Neither of us had ever seen Jei this agitated before. "She's just doing her job. You shouldn't talk to people that way."

Jei glanced at him. "It's _exactly_ the way you speak to stupid people like her!" he shouted before looking at the nurse. "I want that old nice nurse back! You suck!"

Gon looked at me and pursed his lips to keep from laughing.

The nurse stood there, speechless, as she stared at the fourteen year old angry kid.

Finally, she swallowed thickly and said, "I'll speak to the doctor. But until then, only one person can stay."

Jei turned to give me a murderous look. "You're staying! You're not going anywhere! Do you hear me? I know about all your stupid decision of leaving. You're going to stay here 'till she wakes up! You're going to be here for her. Because no matter who you are or the bullshit you've done and been through, she'd do the same for you."

I nodded, and watched as they all walked away and left me behind.

I'd been wrong, again.

I knew my limits very well. I knew my capabilities.

I knew how to kill a person, and how to protect them. I knew how to battle fear and fatigue. I probably knew how to make kids smile. I definitely knew how to make them cry. I knew what it was like to take my anger and my rage and treble people. I knew how to tolerate. Most of the times. I knew how to abide. I knew that I didn't have a purpose in this world; nothing to seek or wish to have. I knew how to die, and I knew what to expect from myself when shit hit the fan. Not only in a hypothetical way, but in an actual way.

I didn't know how to love.

But I was getting impatient for the day when I'd be emotionally literate enough to read this new edition of you, cover-to-cover, and have you read my reprint in return.

* * *

_Killua watched her from across the crowded, noisy room. Everyone around him was getting drunk, stuffed, or embarrassed on the dance floor. He stood in the corner so he could watch as other guests joined each other to dance. That helped him get the piece of cake on his plate out of his vision, since he'd been eying it like a lion stalking its prey from the moment he arrived at the wedding. _

_With the plate in his hand, he just stood in that corner and watched her from a distance. She was all alone on one of the tables, looking exposed and awkward. He had never watched a girl this long before, and it was very new to him. He felt driven to be, just to keep her close to him. Not just because of her or her smile, but because he felt like he couldn't protect her if he wasn't looking. It was a strange fight in him, making him feel compelled, somehow. Compelled close, but while still stretching back out of her reach._

_He felt like he could see her in everything. When he looked back into his past―the delicate, clean pages of his past―she had always been there. A face in the rooms, in the houses, in the streets, in the city. Like she'd always been there watching him, learning him, knowing him, waiting for him. _

_He watched as she froze like a statue when Gon offered her his hand and asked her to dance with him. Killua smiled at her blush. She looked pretty tonight. She was this lovely, ridiculous mess._

_"You're so smitten," someone said, and Killua quickly realized the words were directed to him. He turned his face to the side only to see Jei looking at him with playful, knowing eyes. His lopsided smile was disarming, leaving Killua a little uncomfortable, but he masked the uneasiness with a simple shrug._

_"I'm not smitten," he said calmly.  
__  
Jei rolled his eyes, smirking. "Oh, pulease, you're so much the smitten kitten. Why don't you stop torturing your brain and ask her to dance?"_

_Killua squinted his eyes in disgust. "I don't want to, so shut up and leave me alone."  
__  
Jei snorted at that. "Why are you denying it? You're not even eating your own cake―you, _Killua_, are not eating the cake because you're so busy staring at the girl―your situation is that deteriorated!" he noted, and Killua looked down at his plate. The piece of cake was still big and untouched. "Man, denial is not just a river in Egypt, you know. Actually, right now, you just bypassed the denial part and became Captain Obvious. In fact, you'd totally kick Captain Obvious' ass and take over his ship―"  
_

_"Oh, my god, shut up," Killua groaned, glaring at the boy and diving into his cake. It was probably gross and totally unattractive how quickly he was eating it, shoving baseball-sized bites of wedding cake into his mouth. Within seconds, the cake was gone. "Here. Happy? Now get away from my face."_

_"Ha! Denying with actions, a_ classic_ sign of love."_

_Killua looked at him in horror, as if Jei had just kicked a puppy. "I don't love her," he said indignantly.  
_

_"Then what do you call the sentimental stares? A sign of―"_

_"Friendship. It can be a sign of friendship."_

_Jei grinned mischievously. "Well, not in your case, Lovey Loverson."_

_"Don't call me that."_

_"What should I call you… Perverse Perverson?"_

_"No."_

_"Hormonal Little Twerp?"_

_"God, no."_

_"Why not? You sometimes do look like the thirteen-year-old virgin who only―"  
_

_"Stop. Talking," Killua fumed, before he narrowed his eyes. "What's up with you right now? You were the one who asked me to stop this and stay away from her because it'd end tragically. Now you're asking me to dance with her?"_

_"Well," Jei said, shrugging his shoulders. "I did. But then I realized that…" He turned and gave Killua a foxy smile. "If you want to do the wrong thing, do it right."_

_Killua frowned, but thought about this._

_Jei continued, "If something's honest, then it's not shameful, and you have nothing to be embarrassed of. Whether that feeling is love or friendship. It doesn't have to be perfect; it just has to be right." They both flickered their eyes back to the dance floor, where Gon grabbed Yuki's hand and held it high to spin her around in a stationary circle, making her laugh._

_Killua shook his head. "I don't love her," he insisted, but his tone was serious now. He was speaking the truth. "What I feel for her is… different."_

_Jei understood, but it didn't mean he'd stop tipping Killua over the edge. "Whatever you say. But hey, be careful, she might not be in the same place you are."_

_Killua's face hardened. "If by that place you mean, the one you're referring to, is being in love, then Yuki _is_ in the same place as I am, because I'm _not_ in that place!"_

_Jei went silent for a moment._

_"Okay, I didn't understand a word of that," he said, and then paused again. "But that's probably because you were speaking the secret language of love!"  
__  
Killua groaned, frustrated, but he couldn't really defend his situation anymore.  
_

_He knew what he was feeling was different from love; he just had no idea what to call it._

* * *

**Day 2 - Before Midnight**

"Yeah, Gon," I said, tapping my fingers impatiently on the wall. "You were here not two hours ago… I'm okay… I am… No, I haven't slept yet… No, are you kidding… Yes, I'm not a baby. Gon… _Gon_… Jeez. I'll talk to you tomorrow." I shrugged, wanting to end this phone call. Gon was acting like a mom. When he couldn't come over here, he called like six times, and it was irritating to be called to the reception room every time to take the phone call, since I didn't have a phone. He embarrassed me every time, which could only mean one thing: Gon was totally acting like a mom.

He sometimes made me feel like I was the patient, not you. He was sure you would be stable all the time, unlike me. I wondered what Jei had told him.

During the time Gon took care of me, I had felt like a child, being driven, being taken somewhere. The relief of being cared for, after so many months, years, a lifetime of caring and treating, was something I had not fully processed. It was like letting out a breath that had been held for too long.

"Jei asked me to tell you something," Gon said. _Speak of the devil_. "He wants you to make sure to keep Yuki's necklace near her until she wakes up."

My mind reeled with confusion. "Why?"

Gon was silent for a minute and I heard some shuffling. He was probably asking Jei.

I waited, and pulled out the necklace from my pocket. It had been there since they gave me your stuff few hours ago. I bought it closer to my face. I never thought about inspecting it before now. It was gold, shaped like a heart. Not the traditional heart shape that people draw everywhere, but an actual human heart. There was a tiny circular ruby in the center, but it was paler than the blood-red color of the real gemstone. It was losing its color, fading away into a light pink. I worked my unprofessional mind to find the symbolism of what this whole thing stood for, but failed.

"Umm…" Gon finally answered hesitantly. "Jei can't say anything."

I felt a prick of irritation. I wasn't expecting Jei to divulge your secrets, but I was irritated―and maybe surprised―that you had some rocky edges that I couldn't recognize. There was some new dark corners, and I never saw them before or knew anything about them. You were always an open book to me, with a plenty of illustrations. I thought I could read you very well. But right now, that had changed and I wasn't so happy about it.

"I'll talk to you later, Gon."

"Okay. Good night, Killua. Sleep."

"Yeah, yeah, good night," I said hurriedly before I hung up. If no one was giving me the answers I needed, then I just had to find them myself.

I looked around me, making sure no one was looking my way. I grasped the necklace tightly in my hand, and allowed a small amount of my aura to trickle outward. I summoned it into my palm, and made it close in on the golden chain. The energy pulsed and grew larger, the blue aura swirled menacingly around my hand.

Something hot burned my palm, and suddenly, I found myself dropping the necklace with a dull thud onto the floor. It glimmered conceitedly as my brain struggled to figure out what just happened. I felt the beads of sweat run down my forehead. The heat I felt in my palm was something extraordinary; a burning feeling that began at the point of contact, increasing in intensity as it spread up my arm. The burning was like a million fireworks with their sudden, vibrant sparks, cascading toward my hand.

My confusion grew to shock, and the circle of your secrets grew bigger. Many thoughts jumbled and tumbled through my mind. It'd take me a while to unfold and uncoil them.

I pushed them aside and bent down to pick up the necklace, only to see another hand planning to do the same.

A tall man in a black, well-tailored suit stood before me. He was broad-shouldered, but not muscular. His long hair was pulled back with a rubber band, mainly black, with bits of gray and white in it. His face was unshaven, and he awfully smelled like wine and cologne. His eyes steady and patient when he looked at my face.

"Killua-kun?" he muttered with a kind smile. My clear surprise answered his question. Instead of shaking my hand, as I thought he would, he reached up and patted my shoulder. The gesture felt familiar somehow, as if perhaps my own father had done this. "I spoke to the nurses. It was you who saved my girl's life."

_My_ girl.

This man had called you his girl. I frowned and looked at the hand he had on my shoulder. Finally, he reached to shake my hand.

"I'm sorry it took me too long to come here. I'm Hisagari Kudo. Please call me Gary. I'm Yuki's uncle and guardian. Can we talk?"

* * *

The weather outside was trying to claw its way inside. It leaned against the glass, tested the window frame's structural integrity. The wind huffed through the minute gaps around the pane, breathed fog around the foundations, and licked condensation along the edges of the glass. It picked at the slate roof tiles. Something about this place amplified everything. Frustrated, the sky heaved a net of raindrops over the hospital building.

I watched with dry, scratchy eyes as the splatter of rain ran down the window of the hallway. Your uncle and I sat outside your room. He handed me a steaming cup of black coffee and sat next to me on the bench.

The room was quiet as Gary's shoulders hunched, not looking at me, seemingly speaking to the cup and the necklace in his hands. "I won't ask you what happened. I'm not interested in the details," he said quietly. "Honestly, I… It took two bottles of bourbon for me to have the courage to come here," he chuckled. He made a noise, like clearing his throat, but it didn't fool me. He was trying not to cry.

I sipped my coffee. It tasted like ashes. Vanilla nut flavored ashes. I was glad he wasn't going to ask me about what happened. I couldn't tell him that you almost died because of me.

"Yuki was a really… special kid," he began. "Old soul, I used to call her. She was courageous and wise for her years. Not with the presumed immortality of some kids. You know… kids who don't know fear. She knew it. She was capable and thoughtful and… usually pretty honest. But her fears… They kept her from everything. She got in her fair share of trouble, sure. Troubles that got her into this place so many times before. And sometimes she lied about it. It broke my heart, how defeated she always looked. She remained like this for four years. Defeated, broken, without any means of survival." He paused. "Until he came along and healed her…" he muttered under his breath, almost annoyingly so.

My eyebrows went up. "Who?"

Gary ignored me and continued, "Understand something, Killua-kun." He turned to me and I froze still. "Yuki's tough, but fragile. She's a survivor, a fighter. But she has to be careful. The people who care about her have to be careful with her. If you care about her, you need to put your anger in the backseat. If you care about her, you will. Because you're a guy, and you can. If you treat her with disregard, that's the same as violence. Worse maybe."

Why was he telling me this?

"You don't know me," I said cautiously, a bit apprehensive.

He smiled warmly and looked down at his cup. "I do know you. She mentioned you once."

My eyes went wide. My first instinct was to ask him about what you said, but I decided against it.

"I'm telling you this because," Gary said, answering my unspoken question. "That girl lost so much. Not just her family, but her free spirit, her innocence, her chance to be a normal kid, her trust in people…" He narrowed his eyes at the wall before him. "Her dreams… her sense of purpose…" He stopped, like it was pointless to list more than those, but still possible. "That's why, she was always afraid to find new things, new people and new friends, because she's afraid to lose them. She'll probably laugh at what I'm saying, but I know that deep inside, she knows she can't handle it. I know how much she's ready to give. She likes to give, but she first needs some sort of guarantee that she won't lose that person."

My cheek bled under the clench of my teeth, remembering my choice of leaving you.

"She's very cynical. She sees the end before she even starts the journey. That's always how she survived. She always reached the end. Almost…" His eyes closed in pain. "But then somehow, she would survive and start again. That's why I call her a born fighter. It's in her, not something she seeks."

I gave a resigned nod and rocked back in my chair, pressing my spine to the wood behind me.

Gary stood up and looked at me. "I have to go now. She's not going to like seeing me here when she wakes up. She made me promise not to come to the hospital when the nurses call me. She hates it when I take care of her. It has to do with some strange independence." He scrunched his nose. "Females are weird."

He gave me a small smile. I don't know if I returned it.

"But I won't listen to her," he said as he pulled out his business card and handed it to me. "I know she's going to be fine, but I need to make sure. Please."

I nodded and slipped the card in my pocket.

"Thank you, Killua-kun." He took my hand, giving it a quick shake and slipping the necklace back in my palm before he started to walk away.

As I looked at your bed through the glass window, it suddenly occurred to me, irrational and fleeting, that I had the full understanding of what your life would be like if I never came along. I might not be able to give you everything I'd taken, but I knew that I might be able to offer you the guarantee Gary talked about. I didn't want you to go back to that life, because I didn't want to change you. You had to stay like this. Guarded, but courageous; tentative, but daring. Wanting to find the edge of the universe and trying to touch it.

It came to me, strong and certain, like the hackles that rise off the neck before the first thunk of a mortar: you and I were the same. Somehow, we were the same.

"Killua-kun?"

I craned my neck to look at Gary, who stopped walking. His eyes were still pained when he looked at me.

"You're gonna be here, right? You're not going to leave her, are you?" he asked.

I hoped that my answer offered some of the reassurance he was looking for.

"Not by choice."

* * *

**Day 3 - Before Midnight**

I hated being here.

There was no place where I didn't feel exposed. There was no surface that didn't have hard edges. There was no sound that was not discordant. There was no resolution to the dissonance I felt in every atom of my being. There was no place where I didn't feel the sharp bite of cold.

The room was too cold—stifling. The cold was an overwhelming abundance—the whiteness of the paint on the walls only made it seem that much colder.

I brought a hand up to my cheek, attempting to warm my face with the temporary heat of my palm.

I was trying my best to sit motionless, the underlying smell of sterile conditions and impending death, along with the strong potent smell of disinfectant permeated the hallway.

I wanted to punch something.

I'd been sitting like this for a long time, twelve hours with only a handful of breaks, and the stiffness settling into my neck was telling me I should move. Offer myself a break from the ruminations of my past, you, and my present. Breathe in some sea air and breathe out some stress. Stretch from this cramped position.

I'd been away from my house for five years, and in that time I'd gotten older. Maybe not a lot wiser. But definitely older. Sometimes I dreamed about that house, sometimes I thought about it. Sometimes I even missed it, but I never missed myself there.

Sometimes I managed to go days blocking its memories. Other times, it felt like there was not an hour that could pass me by without some kind of reminder.

Like tonight.

"Hmph!"

I turned my head toward the unfamiliar voice. A copper-haired little girl was walking in my direction. Her steps were angry and purposeful. She dropped herself on the bench next to me. She was dressed in pink with little pigtails and a scary glint in her eyes as she looked down at the picture between her tiny fingers. I lazily propped my head on my elbow and exhaled.

She seemed to stiffen at the sound, noticing me. "Can I sit here?" she asked, mortified, staring at me with those big, brown doe eyes.

I resisted the urge to bark, _Free country, _but doubted that this kid would understand, so I settled with, "You already have."

She sadly bowed her head back to the picture. "Thank you."

I inhaled and leaned back against the wall, folding my arms. My leg bounced against my will. My eyes darted involuntarily to the picture in the girl's hands. It was a picture of a new-born baby.

"Do you have any brothers?" the kid asked randomly.

I looked at her with the corner of my eye and raised an eyebrow questioningly. Non-sequitur much? I turned my eyes away, believing that if I ignored her, she would shut up and leave.

She changed the question. "What's your name?"

What was up with kids and names? I closed my eyes and ignored her.

"Hi…sa…ga…ri Ku…do," I heard her mumble few minutes later. At her words, I looked back at her and saw her holding Gary's business card too closely to her eyes. How she stole that from my pocket was beyond me. Damn children's tiny hands.

I snatched the card out of her hand and snarled, "What the hell are you doing?"

Unfazed by my outburst, the spawn of devil grinned. "Nice to meet you, Kudo-san!"

I squinted in distaste. Hearing her calling me by your name was weird, and somehow made me feel unmanly. I squinted again at the direction my thoughts had taken. I slid the card into my other pocket—the one she could not reach—and glared at her.

She shifted her small frame to stand on the bench, pressing her palms on the window behind us. She stared at your bed through the glass. "Ehh, who's this?" she asked curiously. "Your girlfriend?"

I didn't know the answer to that question either. It seemed like such a paltry word for what lied between you and me.

"Someone who hates me," I answered dryly.

"Hehhh?" The little girl was on her hands and knees over the bench, her little head almost on my lap. If possible, her eyes grew even bigger. "Why does she hate you?"

"Because I'm cold-hearted and evil."

The girl giggled, so loudly it made me flinch at the sound. "No, you're not!" She looked suspiciously at my head. "Evil has horns. You don't have any."

I scoffed._ Horns, pigtails, potayto, potahto._

"My name's Pennichan," she said cheerily. When I didn't reply, she tried again. "It's my whole name." When that didn't work, she jumped off from the bench and bent at the knees, forcing me to look at her. "I'm four. What about you?" She reached out and ruffled my hair. I shook my head, and she caught up on my annoyance, but didn't back down. Every time I looked away, she would steal my attention again, poking me in the head or arm. I tried to not let it get to me and looked at the wall so I wouldn't see her anymore, but she kept wiggling and bouncing to block my gaze.

Having had enough, I snapped, grabbing her small shoulders and forcing her still, looking directly into her eyes. "Oh my god, you're so annoying! Can't you see that I don't want to talk to you? Get the hell out of here and leave me alone!"

The little girl looked like she was going to wet herself, so I let go of her shoulders because I sure as hell didn't need to get pissed on, too.

She was staring at me with her mouth agape.

She wasn't making any noise, and she wasn't moving. That was progress.

"T-that's what my p-parents said to me," she stammered in a weak voice, looking down at the floor, and soon enough, her eyes were glassy and there I saw the tears welling up.

_Oh, shit._

Oh no, not the waterworks. I watched her move to sit back next to me with a mixture of frustration and panic. I had no idea what to do now. Sick to my stomach, a churning brew of anger and regret, my hand was, again, back in my hair. That was who needed to be punched. Me. My past self. My selfish, self-consumed, unseeing past self, who was obviously still dominant.

I shuffled closer to Pennicha—_Penny_—and put my hand flat on her back. "Hey, don't cry. Do you still want me to answer your questions?" I willed my voice to be soothing, but I doubt it was working. Penny sniffed, crying silently, tears slipping down her face. "I'm Killua," I began, slowly rubbing her back. "I have four brothers. Two of them are older than me. The girl inside that room was my girlfriend. Her name is Yuki. She's also very annoying. She also doesn't do what I tell her to do, only what she wants to do. But she's smart, funny and sweet. If she was awake right now, she'd hit me for yelling at you."

Penny sniffled a chuckle through her tears and rolled her watery eyes. "She can't hit you, she's a girl!"

"Oh, she can. She absolutely can."

"Yeah, but she can't_ hurt_ you," she interjected, wiping her tears away.

The irony was funny. You were the one who was going to hurt me the most.

I picked up the picture she was holding earlier and held it in front of her face. "Who's this?"

"My brother. He was born today." Penny frowned. "Everyone loves him more than me," she said with a sigh. This was an unexpected complaint.

"Noway. I'm sure they love you both the same amount."

She shook her head earnestly. "No. Grandma and Grandpa brought a million presents for him tonight. A lot of clothes and toys, and none for me."

This girl was quite the exaggerator.

"Pfft," I scoffed exaggeratedly for effect. "I'm sure they brought lots of presents over when you were born. In fact, they probably gave you more than they gave him, because you're older."

With a pout, she whined, "Mommy didn't even bring me anything today. She doesn't think I'm pretty and nice anymore."

"Now, that is not true. She brought you the most important gift of all."

"No, she didn't. She said this was not a trip, so no presents. She only cared about bringing my brother here so everyone could love him more."

My mind drifted back to someone. I could almost hear him laughing up as he watched my exchange with this child. I could always feel him around, like a twitch in my heart.

"I have a story for you."

"What?" Penny asked, tipping her head back so she could see my face.

I patted my knee. She didn't waste a second; she quickly climbed on my lap.

"When I was two, my mother brought home my little brother and you know what? I didn't really like it that everyone thought he was more interesting than me. Nobody thought I was pretty or nice."

"You can't be pretty! You're a boy!" Penny replied with a tinkling of laughter.

The left side of my mouth shot up. "Anyway, I thought everyone loved him more than me."

Penny looked up at me so innocently. "Your Mommy didn't bring you presents either?"

I tried to keep from laughing. "My mother brought the same gift your mom brought home tonight. Your mom brought you your brother. He's the most special gift. You'll never outgrow him like the clothes your grandma gave him. He'll never get boring. He's going to get more fun to play with everyday. Most of all, he's going to be yours forever. He's your brother. No one else gets to say that. That's pretty special if you ask me."

She scrunched up her little face while she thought that over.

"He's also going to look up to you and want to be like you. He's going to trust you and need you. And you're going to be the coolest person he knows."

Penny turned to the photo of her baby brother, leaning in so their faces were inches apart. She spoke in a small voice, "Did you hear that? You're gonna love me _so _much. I'm your sister and you're my brother and you have to do everything I say because sisters are important."

Okay, that wasn't exactly what I said at all. "I didn't say anything about listening to everything you say."

"You don't do everything your big brother says?" she countered.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "Never mind." I set her back to her feet. "Let's go find your parents. They must be worried about you." She nodded slowly in understanding. That was easier than I thought it would be.

"Killua-san?" She tugged on my sleeve as we walked down the hallway.

"Hm?"

"If Yuki-san was your girlfriend, it means she loved you right?"

My back stiffened, and my heart skipped a beat, but I stayed calm. "I…guess so."

"Then she must forgive you. Mommy says that if you love someone, you must forgive them."

I smiled down at the kid holding my hand―or more like my pinky finger. "Yeah?"

"Yeah! That's what Mommy says. And Mommy's always so right. It makes Daddy upset."

"Your mommy sounds like a wise woman."

I thought I could fix you, somehow, and make you who I wanted you to be, who I knew you _could_ be. But if your pages were blurry to you, then there was nothing I could do about it. It was better to forget about trying.

But there were a lot of things I wanted to remember: flushed cheeks and shaking hands, fear and hesitant smiles. Happiness.

And hope. I wanted to remember that, too. That it existed. That it could be mine. That it was okay for it to bloom and it was okay to be scared.

Because this wouldn't be real if it didn't hurt.

And that was something I didn't ever want to forget.

* * *

_After she obediently jumped down, Yuki moved to stand on the bed. Killua couldn't let that pass without making fun of her. "I told you why!" she said. "Standing on the bed is like standing on the window; it helps me think. You can just pretend I'm a crazy person and indulge me."  
__  
"I _do_ indulge you," Killua reminded. "And I'm not pretending," he added under his breath, his voice too low for her to hear. "Who stands on the bed to think? That sounds almost as crazy as something my brother would do."  
__  
"Which one? The dummy, the 'fat pig' or the one who's practically a woman?"_

_"The fat pig. He's such a weirdo, and he only spews out his stupid nonsense when there's a whip in his hand."_

_Yuki stilled. "He's the one who used to beat you?"_

_"Most of the times, yes."_

_"But he's your brother," she said thoughtfully. All of a sudden, she looked at him and he knew that look. Something crazy was about to come out. "I'm sorry for bringing that up."_

_Killua raised his eyebrows. "Uh, it's okay? I'm over it. I think I wound up pretty okay," he joked._

_She grinned widely and then it was back, that look of crazy disguising itself as concern. "Why would anyone be cruel to a child? Why would anyone be cruel to _you_? You can be so good to everyone."_

_Killua shrugged his shoulder. "Maybe that was the problem."_

_"Oh." Yuki considered this. "Well, umm__…_ Call your brother. Call him! Call him and I'll… I'll insult him! He's so stupid he'll be crushed by my mad insulting skills."

_Killua cracked up. "Alright, alright. I'll consider it while you jump down."_

_"I'm really hoping he starts some drama," she continued, almost to herself. "Because then I'll whip out some great comeback and his stupid head will be left speechless."  
_  
_"What kind of comeback?"_

_"Well, ideally he'd say something like__…_ umm," she trailed off to think for a moment. "Oh! Like, he'll say, 'You're such a sad, lonely waste of human being who doesn't have anybody' and I'll be like, "Oh, you should meet my friend; he's a mind reader… oh wait, that won't work 'cause he'll find nothing to read."

_Killua chuckled, definitely at and not with her. She did a little victory dance that involved her shimmying on the bed and blowing the smoke away from her finger gun before tucking it into a fake holster._

_He was not sure whether to hug her or admit her to the nearest psychiatric hospital, but he'd be the first to admit that this was one of the things he liked most about her._

_But then, as she moved over the bed, Yuki's foot got stuck in the sheet and she flailed for balance, tripping over her own feet. She pitched backwards, falling off the bed and flat on her back with a loud 'whoops.'_

_Killua sighed and walked around the bed to check if she'd broken any bones or caused even more damage to her brain, but he found her laughing. Because she just fell on her butt, and that was funny, no matter what the circumstances were. Killua knelt next to her on the floor and watched her laugh, shaking his head._

_She pulled at his shirt and forced his back to hit the floor, and then her fingers became rowdy and roving, sliding up and down his torso, trying to tickle. She had never seen him laugh so heartily before, and it was an imagination she couldn't grasp. Killua was not ticklish, though, and he told her so. But she was Yuki, which meant she was stubborn, so she just became determined to prove him wrong. Her hands moved all over him, and he cracked up as she poked him behind the knee, trying to see if that'd elicit a reaction. It didn't, but that didn't stop her. Finally, she twisted her middle and ring fingers into his side below his rib, and he recoiled._

_"Ooh, found a spot," she said mirthfully, as if she'd just won the lottery._

_In a way, she had._

_She had found a place he never even knew was there._

* * *

**Day 3 - Midnight**

Slipping inside the white room, I silently ghosted to your bedside. You were sleeping very soundly, rare for you. Your face turned toward the window, as if you were avoiding to look at me. I tried not to smile. Even in your unconscious state, nothing had changed; you had always been like this and you probably always would be.

Your color was almost back to normal. All traces of exhaustion and sickness diminished. For the first time in three days, I walked to stand beside your bed and pressed my knuckles against your cheek. Your stirred slightly, and I watched your brow relax as you lips turned up into a mysterious little smile.

Being near you again did wonders for my mood. It was strange.

"Hmm…." You puffed out a sigh and snuggled your face into the pillow. You were moving again, which meant you were fine. Your hair further tangled with the motion, curling and twisting into nested, black little knots around your head.

You stirred again, this time shuffling nearer to the edge of the bed. I shook my head and held back a laugh. One more shuffle, and I'd be keeping you from falling to the floor. I smiled as I rubbed your hand in gentle, slow circles.

Your legs straightened out, in turn, your sloping calf muscles twitching and stretching. Your tongue slipped past your teeth and licked at your parted dry lips, leaving behind a sheen of wetness. Before I was even aware of my actions, my face was close to yours; I was staring, mere inches away from your nose, breathing in each of your breaths, playing with fire. I licked my lips, just as you had, and wished I could somehow be even closer.

I probably had to pull back. I'd taken enough advantage of you.

But I didn't. Instead, I imagined taking you in my arms, pulling your body flush to mine. Our contact would keep your nightmares at bay and free me from my haunted past. I'd make you—_us_—forget everything else, even if only for a little while.

My face swam up to yours without my notice as I pondered, the tips of our noses drawing together like cartilage magnets. Before I could stop myself, our lips made contact.

Contact in the sense that mine brushed against your upper lip before drifting to linger on the lower one. I pulled away, careful not to wake you up, allowing myself to focus on the hum that passed through your lips. My head cleared after a moment. The satisfaction I felt afterwards sent a fearful chill through me. It was that fear that drove me into the darkness, running away from my weak and curious self-control.

And yet, no matter the mounting fears, no matter how far I might run, I knew I would return, for you would pull at me, yanking an invisible rope to my chest.

_Maybe it's not just guilt, Killua._

Stunned, I ripped my hand away from your hand. I moved away from the bed, my hands fisted at my sides.

_Love_?

Staring at your relaxed, sleeping features, I placed a hand over my heart. It was beating… No, not just beating—thundering, rushing, racing. It reminded me of the last moments before I left my family's house, when my whole life changed.

_Love_?

I couldn't possibly love you, and you would never see me as someone worthy of love. The pain that realization brought with it was almost too much to bear.

Assassins, former or not, weren't _really_ capable of this emotion, were they? But as I looked at you, curled up before me, I knew. I could at least speak to myself, as it seemed so obvious now. I would never tell you this, but I loved how you were too observant for your own good, how you were stubborn and faithful, inconsistent and flighty. I loved that you were a part of the lie I chose to believe. I loved how you tried not to fear me, even though you should. I perhaps, just very slightly, even loved that you challenged me.

Suddenly, everything aligned and made sense, warmed me to my very being. By choice or not, I could never leave you now. I would stay and guard your life as if it were my own. I returned to your bedside and marveled at the feelings coursing through me, at how I, once again, felt my damned world changing.

It was simple. You were my purpose now.

_"We spent our time in silence,  
but there's something you should know  
That I would hold you like the wind,  
__and I would catch you like the snow."_**_  
_**

* * *

**A/N: **I really love to make Killua act and sound like a total jerk. I also like to torture him a little bit. (Obviously.)**  
**

One more chapter before the final arc of this story. The final arc will have all the answers: Yuki's secrets, the truth about the flashforward in chapter twenty that freaked everybody out, and the reason why Killua is seventeen in this story. Because of course that has a reason.

See you next month, but until then, please leave me your thoughts AKA: review.


	33. Human

_**Thank you so much for the best reviews! You guys are awesome. You guys are as awesome as Gangnam Style. **_

_**If, by any chance, this chapter reminds you of episodes 29/30 of the 1999 anime, then you should know that the resemblance is absolutely and utterly intentional.  
**_

_**Now let's finish this arc, shall we?  
**_

* * *

_**34. Human**_

* * *

"Hey, dude, you absolutely _suck_ at this!" A taunting voice. Boyish._  
_

"Ehh, gimme a break! I've reached level three in no time!" Hurt, but friendly.

"But you died like a bazillion times! Gon, take it from me: games are not your thing." Laughter. "Man, you suck so much you will end up creating a black hole that will eventually consume our planet."

"This is…mean!" Indignant.

"I might be mean, but at least I can push some tiny buttons, jeez."

Things were startlingly blurry when my eyes flicked open. A bright, stabbing light was coming from the window. I squeezed both my eyes shut, then opened one just enough to squint through. It still seemed like a million flashlights were pointed at me. The white, thin sheets that covered me did nothing to block the blinding light searing heat down from above. I glanced out the open window ― a habit that I could never understand or break ― at the pink-orange sunrise sky. I felt like I had been living in eternal night for too long.

"Jei…hey, Jei, look, she's waking up." Warm, hopeful.

"Wakey wakey," the boyish, snickering voice said.

"Should we call someone?"

"No." Firm. "Not yet."

Both voices sounded funny, echo-like, like I was listening to an old tape recording. Two familiar figures stood in front of me, but their faces were in shadow, the light source coming from behind. When I finally grew accustomed to the light, I opened my eyes fully. I took in the person sitting beside the bed, curiosity potent in the way my gaze lingered. It was then I recognized him, muscles locking, surprise stealing the conviction from my voice.

"Finally, thank goodness!" Jei grumbled, placing his DS on the nightstand. His hair looked longer than I remembered, past his ears in a curly dark curtain as he rolled his eyes at me, lips pursed and brow furrowed. "For a moment, Gon and I considered moving in here."

I blinked a few times, my eyes bleary and unfocused. My hand moved to my temples. My head felt split open right where my neck met my skull. The whole of my body felt sticky and slow from sleep. "Don't talk to me yet. I'm not awake," I mumbled, my voice sounding hoarse from the lack of use.

I reached my other hand out, testing the limits of my body, and Gon automatically put his fingers on mine. He cracked a small, fond smile before saying, "We were so worried about you, Yuki."

I tried to move, but I couldn't. My eyelids were heavy. I was on too much medication―I was having trouble holding thoughts and getting them together. My body felt numb. I thought I had probably broken my arms. Or my heart. Or something.

Gon didn't release my fingers, and I couldn't take them away. "How are you feeling, Yuki?" he asked.

"Disgusting, achy, confused. What're you guys doing here?" _Cough._ "Can someone tell me what's going on? W-what happened?" _Clearing my throat_. "How long have I been asleep?" _More coughing and clearing._ "Why do I have tubes sticking out of my skin? Wait, no―are we―Hospital?" _Gasp._ "No, god, no. But why? How did I―no, _when_ did I―is everyone―" I failed to focus on one thought. "―ok…ay?" I croaked, my throat still parched and scratchy.

Gon's mouth made a little o. He and Jei shared the same look of utter shock. I tried not to let their faces confirm my worst suspicions.

"Well," Jei started to say, leaning back on his chair and crossing his arms. "One thing at a time. Yes, we're in a hospital. You've been asleep for five days. You have tubes in your arms _because_ you've been asleep for five days. But you're breathing on your own now. We're here because we're such good friends, obviously. Everyone is okay…sort of. What else? Oh. And you've been brought to this place because you were so stupid. Does that ring a bell?"

My head was spinning. "No…not at all." I gingerly lifted myself into a sitting position, wincing as the movement irritated my headache. "I can't remember anything…Oh crap, I've died, haven't I?"

"Yeah…you have."

Well…dammit.

"Great," I breathed sarcastically, burying my face my hands. From between my fingers, I took a half-hearted look at my surroundings. "Have I at least died in a strategically useful position? A preferably meaningful, cool way?"

"Hmm." Jei stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. "Meaningful? Maybe. Cool, god no. Useful? Absolutely not. You were so selfish. You had no right to do what you did. No one asked you to do what you did, actually. And you've completely mistaken sacrifice with stupidity."

_Sacrifice?_

I stiffened. "What are you talking about? What sacrifice?" I asked, and there was a strained note in my voice. I looked tentatively between the two of them. "You guys know why I died?"

Jei's face got very serious. "You don't?" he asked, a furrow in his eyebrows.

"Apparently not."

I remembered getting my necklace back from that beanie guy, but everything following that moment had been wiped out of my head like a dusty chalk from a black board. I wasn't sure if this was a blessing or a curse. But judging by the great widening of Gon's eyes and the grim line of Jei's mouth, I assumed it was a very bad thing.

Jei's mossy-green eyes assessed me for longer than I liked; he did this every time I unintentionally lost myself in my own thoughts. He was either too straight forward or he hid an awful lot—one extreme or the other. This time, he looked strangely puzzled.

Our eyes locked, and I allowed him to understand the reason why my memory totally sucked now. I tried to compose my face, but my worry spiked; the fear of the unknown that lingered around this shifted, indisputable.

This part of my life was very familiar, repetitive even. I had been in this place so many times, I had lost count. I had woken up to this feeling of such immense confusion, and had endured the dreadful minutes of listening to the consequences of what I'd done. The reminders were never easy to hear. There was a thousand ways to tell me, a thousand ways to color it, and I didn't want the rose-colored version.

"Okay, can someone please tell me how I died?"

Jei exhaled and looked at Gon, who nodded briefly and moved to the door. I thought he was about to leave, but he―

_Click._

"Um…why did you lock the door?" I asked, suddenly feeling too self-conscious.

Jei leaned back comfortably. "You need to know what happened, and I don't want any interruptions."

"But this is a hospital, you can't—"

"Do you want to hear your story or not?" Jei groaned softly, cocking his head to one side. "I don't have the whole day."

"Okay. Sorry. You may proceed." I shrugged and waved my hand at him.

"So," Jei said, crossing his legs. "I'll tell you everything I heard and everything I saw, but I don't know all the details. When we arrived there, it was kinda late—" _We?_ "—yes, uhh, we. But I could understand a little of what happened. Her mind was so loud and yours wasn't any better. But umm…anyway, don't expect too much."

I swallowed.

"I'm listening."

* * *

_The stillness of the early winter was in the forest, along with the raucous caws of crows. The stars seemed a woven tapestry above her head. They were trapped beneath a bolt of dark silk embroidered with golden stars. It was a mirage—a hoax.  
_

_"Oh…Yuki." Aimi stayed within the safety of the trees, hidden behind giant trunks. She was in a red, silky dress that stood out starkly from the shade and mossy greens. "I'm so glad you've arrived—and alone, finally," she purred with a warm smile, spreading her hands out. Bangle bracelets slid up her slender arms. "What was it that brought you here? Was it the guilt?"  
_

_Yuki remained calm, face composed. She didn't struggle against the beanie guy's grip that was tightening around her wrists. She didn't react to the way his nails violently dug into her sufficiently cold flesh, making the pain a lot more unpleasant. Instead, she replied:  
_

_"I'm here to tell you something." She took a deep breath, calming herself. "You have something against me. And when you have something against me, you come to me. Deal with me. You don't get innocent people involved. You want me, here I am. You could have just asked me to be here, and I would have come. Gladly. Take it out on me, not on the auction people or Jei or anyone else―_me_. I protect these people. They're my responsibility. And if you try to hurt any of them ever again, if you come anywhere near the auction building, I can promise you that I won't be this calm." She held one finger up in the air. "Oh, one more thing…" In one quick motion, Yuki freed her hands. Reaching out behind her, she grabbed fistfuls of the beanie guy's shirt, lifting him high above her head, swinging his body up in the air and slamming it hard on the ground in front of her. "If your brother touches me again, I'm gonna have to pound on him a little bit."  
_

_Ignoring her brother's pained groans, Aimi smiled. "Aren't you the sweetheart? I liked that about you. You're very…fiesty. Bold, tough…acting all tough, speaking all tough__…_protecting yourself from your own vulnerability_…_I like that. The sincerity in your eyes, your pride, your honor, your loyalty…" With each remark, she walked her way up to Yuki. Heeled boots click-smacked on the rocks, like an old clock breaking down. "I really, really like that."

_Yuki stared at the blond girl in silence, her eyes narrowed.  
_

_Aimi grinned widely, holding Yuki's shoulders at arm's length, examining her face._

_"Too bad I'm gonna have to kill you tonight."_

* * *

I had been trying to follow this, a puzzled frown on my face, trying to make sense of everything I was hearing as an utter silence went on.

"But…why?" The words burst out of my mouth.

Jei answered heavily, "Apparently, she believed that you murdered her brother, not the airheaded twin, but her big brother. The one you tried to save two years ago. But, well, failed. She knew you had something to do with his death and she wanted to make you pay."

A pang of grief ripped through me as I thought of that young man. But the thought that I would kill somebody's brother was outrageously ridiculous. What was I supposed to do? I could either confess to screwing up majorly for having been a little out of my mind back then, or to being a minor victim to the killer's vengeance. Neither option was appealing, but I had to cut my losses. The first option made me look guilty. The other could make me looked incompetent. I didn't want to be associated with either of those.

I much chose my usual description of 'reckless' and 'partially insane.'

I repressed a shudder and rolled my eyes, throwing my arms in frustration. "Are you kidding me? I went to that guy's funeral! I didn't saw Aimi that day, but I'm pretty sure she saw _me_. I mean…What kind of a murderer goes back to the crime scene? That's ridiculous."

"It doesn't really make much sense," Gon agreed, shrugging.

Jei let out a puff of air and threw his legs on the edge of my bed. "Well, it doesn't. But when someone believes in one thing, they stand strong for it, and it's impossible to change that sometimes." His eyes met mine for a few intense seconds. "Besides, Aimi knows about your medication, so she also believed that you're mentally unstable. She didn't quite think you were qualified to tell the whole truth or to―"

"―be honest," I finished grimly, nodding.

"Yup."

* * *

_"But I'm not mentally unstable. I take my medication for personal reasons," Yuki said sharply. "I know what I saw that night. There isn't any reason for me to go after your brother. You should work that criminal mind of yours into finding the right person—the real murderer. I have nothing more to say, and just me being here right now, arguing with you about this, makes me guilty, and I'm not." She backtracked. "I'm out of here."_

_Aimi's hand shot out and wrapped her fingers around Yuki's wrist. Her face had hardened; all emotions were wiped clean. Smiling, she said, "You haven't seen me very upset, Yuki. Brother says it's ugly."_

_Yuki sighed. "I didn't kill your brother, Aimi. Someone else did. I tried to stop it, I really did, but I couldn't. I can't remember the killer's name, but I do remember his face. I'll make it my job to find him, and I'll bring him to justice."_

_Aimi tilted her head to the side, wide eyes glinting dark shades of hazel. "Oh but, Yuki, I know who killed my brother. Do you wanna see him?" She gestured to her brother. "Bring him to me and I'll give you a treat for your good behavior." He nodded eagerly and disappeared into the woods._

_Yuki looked at her, a question in her eyes, a quiver of unease passing through her._

_"Ah, here he is!" Aimi turned and smiled as her brother came back to the clearing; he was carrying something._

_Not something… He? Yuki squinted to look more closely and gasped._

_"Do you remember him, Yuki? His name is―or was?―Hachiuma. My dad screwed his dad over. It was a family thing. We took care of him the minute we found out that he was remotely responsible," she admitted without a second thought, as though it was the most normal thing in the world, and nothing to be ashamed of._

_Yuki felt bile rise to her throat as she took in Aimi's brother and the…stump he held. He had brought Hachiuma. But not…all of him. Hachiuma had been torn apart. He lay limbless in the blond's arms; a dirty, black jeans draped awkwardly over legless hips. His eyes were distant, unblinking…dead. He was dropped to the ground not as if he was trash. His body rolled forward, so that his ashen face pressed into the mud._

_Yuki froze, ice seeping through her veins. "This is sick. __You guys are sick.__" she accused._

_"Ehh, I didn't do anything!" Aimi pouted prettily. "He ran into my knife!" She smirked and added in a whisper, "He ran into my knife twenty-five times."_

_She had the gall to smile as she looked down at Hachiuma's still form. "Now you maybe have some concept of my feelings," she said as she turned back to Yuki, who for a few moments was completely frozen as she stared down at the young limbless man on the ground. "Do you get it now, Yuki? Do you think we care about your intention? Whether or not you wanted it to happen?" Her voice was getting softer. "You know it, and I know it, that if a damned bird had gotten responsible for your family's death, you'd have wanted it dead, too. Rationality has no room; we're all insane here."_

_"So you're blaming me for witnessing your brother's murder, and not being able to stop it? This is what makes me responsible for his death?" Yuki dealt out glares to the twins. "I hope you understand that this is such an unreasonable argument."_

_Aimi smiled and said, very softly, very triumphantly, "The same way you blamed a nine-year-old kid for the death of your family. How's _that_ for an unreasonable argument, Yuki?"  
_

* * *

**_COUGH! COUGH! COUGH!_**

"Water, Gon, get her some water!"_  
_

"Yeah, yeah!"

I was coughing all of a sudden and — _ugh, dammit!_ — something shot up from my chest into my throat. I tried clearing my throat to get the tickle out, but then it started to hurt. It kept getting louder and louder, until I started hacking. Moving to sit right beside me, Gon patted my back lightly, his other hand offering me a glass of water.

"Fank you," I mumbled and then the next second, I was coughing again, a loud jagged cough that sounded like a dying seal. I couldn't stop. There seemed to be a dryness in my throat and neither the coughing nor the water seemed to remedy it.

When I finally stopped, my lungs felt feverish and swollen. My ribs ached, and I was weaker than I'd ever been. Gon held the glass close to my lips and forced me to drink some more water. He insisted, rubbing my back as he looked sort of apologetic.

"Hey, calm down…Let it all out," he drawled.

"Yes, _please_," Jei said in a sarcastic plea. "We should have given you some water when you woke up. Killua would _very_ happy if I let you die of a goddamn _cough_."

I swallowed more gulps of water and felt the beating of my heart accelerate.

_Killua._ The mere thought of him was enough to cause another almost physical pain in me. Difficult, insufferable, special Killua.

"Where is he?" I blurted out, looking between Jei and Gon. "Killua. Wh―How's Killua?" I sat up more animatedly, mentally cataloging where my clothes should be.

Jei seemed struck for a moment, as if _he_, the mind reader, never expected such an inquiry. "He's…okay."

"He's really fine," Gon seconded, smiling reassuringly down at me, getting me to relax a little bit. "A little shaken up, but overall, he's fine."

I didn't like the word 'fine' in this context. I never really liked the word 'fine.' It was so vague and misleading. Whenever someone said, 'You look fine,' I knew that I looked horrible. That'd always been my interpretation. But I just went with it right now. 'Fine' was better than 'dead.' It was a blessing word right now.

"…Okay."

"Do you want me to continue now?" Jei said, and I nodded. "Okay. Do not interrupt me again."

* * *

___ Nervously, Yuki looked between the blond twins._

_"What, a cat ate your tongue?" Aimi smiled._

_Yuki looked away, __shame_ filling her, but she hid it behind a cold mask.  


_"You make me sick, Yuki. You never figured out what's important to you. You blame me for something because you believe my reason is trivial, when you're actually doing the same thing to someone else? It appears your hypocrisy knows no bounds, Yuki. I might have liked something about you, but I hate people like you the most. Indecisive, whiny…self-centered. Stubbornly clinging into one thing for so long… makes you lose everything else. You're so focused on how other people perceive you that you no longer know who you are. And soon enough, you're gonna lose that pretty image these people have for you, because you're gonna lose yourself first. Soon you'll just fade away."_

_Yuki's blood froze in her veins, solid and shattered. _

_"I wish I could trust you. If I could just know you were telling the truth, everything would be so much simpler, but—" Aimi threw her hands in surrender, her bitter smirk stinging like a lemon core. "It's just too late, Yuki. We're already too fucked up, both of us. There's no turning the pages back on history, there's no existence for the 'what if'._

_Aimi smiled warmly, reaching and smoothing out Yuki's hair._

_"See, that's why it'd have been so easy to believe you," she went on, all attack, attack, attack. "I'd have trusted you, Yuki, instantly believed every word you told me. I'd have also been so easy to forgive you, only if you weren't such a hypocrite." She paused. "What would Killua feel about this? What would he feel about your _own_ secrets and lies? Your own past? How screwed up you truly are?"_

_Yuki repressed a shiver as the cold effortlessly sank between the fibers of her dress. Was that the worst-case scenario? She honestly didn't see how it could be any worse than that._

_"Leave him out of this, Aimi."_

_Aimi ignored her. "Maybe we should tell him more about you, how cool would that be?" she said merrily, with an icy tinkling laugh. "Maybe he would come here―no wait." She smirked, lightly cupping Yuki's chin and lifting it up. "Maybe he wouldn't be able to come."_

_Yuki's eyes widened further, if that was even possible. She seemed to snap out of her daze, as if suddenly hearing Aimi for the first time. Her brows drew in a heavy frown. "What did you do to him?" she asked, some of her desperation leaking into her voice._

_"Me?" Aimi said and placed a palm over her heart, feigning feeling incredibly hurt. She smirked. "Why, did you want me to do something? Because I can grant you a final wish. You don't know what I'm capable of."_

_Silence fell between them. The wind picked up and blew their hair around, dark and light._

_Aimi's words echoed in Yuki's head. Suddenly something stronger than hate, stronger than revenge, stronger than grief, took hold of her. The forest, the very wide forest was pressing in on her — there wasn't enough air. She wasn't sure what was happening. Her throat felt puffed out, her chest was both huge and tight. Each heartbeat sounded through her as if trying to shake her to death._

_What if Aimi was right? What was she capable of? Yuki didn't know Aimi's about limits, but she knew about revenge. And what revenge came with.  
_  
_Panic surged in her like a monster bursting its shackles, an overwhelming sense of fear and desperation was kicking in as it started getting worse._

_She had her worst fears realized: Loss. She was afraid every time death came near her, but the fear of death coming near someone she cared about was reaching a breaking point. It was unfocused and out of control, touched by a bit of madness. She was scared of losing more people. She was scared of losing herself, scared that her insides would never match what was on the outside. Scared of finding herself, because there might be nothing there._

_Scared this might be for nothing._

_It was one of the scariest feelings to realize how much someone meant to you._

* * *

I felt the tension in the room rising, dusky water that threatened to pull me under, steal my breath, my words, close my lids. I kept quiet, simply clutching the hospital-blanket, answers frozen on the tip of my tongue like icebergs, with the potential to block, choke and flounder.

The terrible claws of guilt dug deeply into my chest, and the concept of what was right and what was wrong deserted me. Should I have killed Hachiuma that night just to save him from that death? Should I have handled this differently? What was the right thing to do? I was no longer sure. All of my past choices were made from the standpoint of satisfying the everlasting sense of revenge — the one I'd carried with me for years. They were based on the trauma of my past, which made them all shaky, unstable and tragically flimsy.

If only I wasn't engulfed with the haze of my revenge, if only I'd toned it down just a little bit that night, I'd have been able to ask Aimi's brother to run away, to tell him that he shouldn't worry, to reassure him that no one was going to die. I should've been more cautious of my actions. I shouldn't have tied myself to Hachiuma's fate. I should've let him run, get lost. I should've done what Killua did to the drunk man who attacked me in the streets, weeks ago.

A shocked, heavy silence pressed down on the top of my head, caging me in a box made of glass. Cracks immediately started to appear and I knew it was only a matter of time before the whole thing shatters, and it was just me, sitting on a cold bed in a cold room, trying to figure out how to make all the parts of me line up to form a real person. A person who was better than I used to be and more than I currently was. Most importantly, a person I liked. Because who I was, the girl of two years ago, the girl of right now? Her, I wasn't very fond of.

I looked away then, my gaze fleeing like a frightened animal as I swallowed against memories that started building right inside my throat and pinching the space beneath my ribs like punishing fingertips.

"What happened then?"

* * *

_Yuki froze. She heard something. There was someone behind her. Someone she had to run away from. They emitted a dark, evil aura. Twisted. Intimidating. Little ringlets of black pulsing on her soul and swallowing every bit of light. The very air surrounding her seemed to drip with darkness._

_She could no longer see Aimi, or anything. Tendrils of dark fog began to creep from every corner. She spun around, with tensed muscles, ready to face that source of darkness. But it was bigger than her. Much stronger and faster. There was no one around her, no one there―just this black, amorphous fog._

_Yuki carefully tightened her hand around the knife. "Killua?" she whispered uncertainly._

_"He never cared for you." Aimi's tone was honey-sweet, but still poisonous. "He never felt sorry for you. He never felt sorry for what he did to you. He just wanted to push you until you broke, just to see how exactly hard he had to press in order to have you broken. He never noticed you, unless there was something he wanted from you. Or perhaps he just wanted to challenge himself―fix the broken-hearted girl. Take the poor orphan and heal her. You know that very well."_

_"Shut up," Yuki said shakily._

_"You were just one of his games. A concubine. A plaything with no will," Aimi whispered, voice soft and persuasive. "And soon, he'll get bored of you. And he will leave you just like everyone else. Because that's what he does. That's what everyone does. They leave you. Killua won't hear you and he won't come for you. No one will. No one loves you, Yuki. No one will ever love you. You're nothing but remnants of a girl after all. Everyone knows that."_

_The words rattled inside Yuki's head, a burning sensation in her eyes._

_"Despair will always be your home, now that you've imprisoned yourself with this feeling. No matter how happy you get, you'll always go back home."  
_

_Hysteria welled within her. She tried to find a way out, but the fog moved quickly, and soon she was enveloped in it. She tried to cry out, but the fog flowed over her mouth, and her cries turned into a muffled whimper. Her grip on the knife loosened and she dropped it on the ground with a dull clank. Her vision blurred. She tried to lift her foot, but could barely moved._

_Blinded by the fog, she lost balance and pitched forward into the darkness._

* * *

**_―|―_**

_The scene around her had changed._

_Her eyes were open. The forest was gone, and she was in a darkened room._

_Her old room, she quickly recognized the place._

_The wind blew lightly from the open window, moaning blearily in her ears. Toys scattered beneath her feat, all over the fuzzy carpet. The room was dark, only a trickle of light came streaming in from the seam of the door. She felt like she had been dropped into a different dimension of reality or surreality._

_A heavy weight was on her palm. She was holding a gun.  
_

_What—_

_Panicked, she looked around her.  
_

_The door creaked, and Yuki froze at the sight of the little girl walking inside her room. The child was very short, wearing a pale red dress that hung to her tiny, bare feet. Her waist-length hair was jet-black, falling over her bare arms like a silk, shimmering cloak. Her eyes were big and blue. The kind of eyes that seemed to be following Yuki around the room, almost staring, seemingly haunted eyes._

_She smiled diffidently._

_Yuki's heart pounded fiercely in her chest. "W-what do you want? What are you doing here?"_

_The child looked at Yuki dubiously. She shifted and scooted closer, her expression loaded with a mixture of surprise, rejection and hurt. "Why are you scared?" she said. "I'm here to check on you."_

_Frantically, Yuki scooted backward. "Get out! Get out of my life! I don't want to know you!"_

_The child smiled this time, confidently, and said, "No matter what you do, you can't get me out of your life. I'm your past. You can lie to everyone but you can't lie to me."_

_Quick as striking a snake, Yuki aimed the gun at the little girl's body, and without thinking, she shot her. She shot her once, twice, thrice. The child wailed and screamed, throwing her small arms around her body as if that could afford a minimal protection. _

_Eyes wide open, Yuki pulled the trigger repeatedly until the child was falling on the floor, wearing a dazed expression. Yuki didn't stop, still emptying the gun of cartridges, one by one. She panted and more deeply, stared at the gun with a measure of contempt and blame. The little girl on the floor stumbled to get up, but got up nonetheless. As if nothing happened._

_A sick sense of dismay swelled in Yuki's throat and cut her words off when the little girl looked at her with an icy calm. _

_"You want to kill me? Don't you know that I'm only dying when you are dying? You're aiming a gun at me? I'm the one who'll never be afraid of you. Because you're a coward."_

_"SHUT UP!"_

_"I was there when you became an orphan. When kids picked on you, laughed at you, and you never fought back."_

_"I'm a different person now!"_

_"Yes," the child whispered, and leaned down to pick a toy from the floor, hugging it tightly to her chest. "You're so different that you completely forgot about me. You can no longer reach inside you and find me."_

_Yuki found herself lowering the gun dropping it between the pile of toys. Feeling drained and exhausted, she said, "What do you want from me now?"_

_"I'm here to blame you."_

_"Blame me? I did everything for you! I did everything to bring you justice! To bring you peace! To stand up against the person who hurt you and made you like this!"_

_"That person was you," the child argued, eyes teary and judgmental. "You never defended me and you let me become so weak. So helpless. I know that boy better than you do. He's no different than you."_

_Yuki looked back at her, at the little figure of her younger self, the self of the distant past still untainted by regrets. And all she wanted was to lose her pride and lean on the shoulders of the little girl's, her past, the unrecoverable, and just weep._

_"It wasn't because I was coward; it was because I was alone."_

_"You're still alone."_

_"No! No, I'm not alone. I'm not! I have people. I have someone I love."_

_"You have no one now," the little girl yelled back. "You fought them all because you were always fighting yourself." She gestured at the blood on her dress. "Look at this. Look at me."_

_Yuki buried her face in her hands. Shivers of shame attacked her spine and she wanted to curl into warm chests and wish it all away._

_But she couldn't.  
_

_Because that was just the flip side of guilt; when you're completely aware of your mistakes, you're also completely on your own._

**_―|―_**

_Yuki was still on her knees, her face still in her hands, and the dark, cool tendrils of fog were still drifting around her, trapping her. From every corner, the fog was getting thicker, colder, and it almost felt solid, like it was holding her back. Her arms and legs had gone numb. A figure brushed past her with a placid glance._

_"I would do anything you want, anything," she muttered, voice muffled. "Just please, please don't hurt him. Leave him alone. I'd do anything."_

* * *

I felt sick to my stomach, like someone was twisting it. Like I was going to throw up. Like all my air had been kicked out of me, if that was possible.

Gon's fingers wrapped around mine once again. His face was crumpled, his eyes hard. "You know that's not true, right, Yuki?" he said. "Everything Aimi said. You know she was lying. You don't believe any of it, do you? You know it was nothing but bullshit…right?"

I blinked in startlement. _Bullshit? _Gon, no matter how stressed or annoyed, had never swore. At least not like this.

My throat was very dry. "Of course," I said. There was no force in my voice, but it didn't mean no truth.

Gon smiled.

His smile was genuine, and I knew I should smile back, but I was weirdly nervous, but not really because of him. Or maybe just a little. I felt guilty that I didn't smile back. Looking into his eyes, I felt guilty about everything. He had been keeping me company, reassuring me, offering me a shoulder to lay on, even though I…after I….

The guilt flooded my system to a higher level.

It made me pissed. Mostly at myself. Mostly because I couldn't get out of my _own_ bullshit head right now.

And this bullshit mess.

And me.

Because, no matter how I sliced all this bullshit, it really broke down to one simple fact.

I was an idiot.

And I didn't have the right to blame my parents or Aimi or the terrorists or anybody. The government, or the gods, or their piddly little representatives in my life. I created this existence. I chose to keep living it. I hated it. I hated my inability to change. I was so desperately sick of this everything. I was too much of a coward to really wrestle this gorilla to the ground and metaphorically kill it in order to get my life ― _myself_ ― back.

"She tricked you," Jei stated. "That was pretty dirty. She had baited you and you swallowed it. Hook, line and sinker. You should've known better than to believe in what she was saying."

"I didn't," I said, scowling at the memory. "I didn't believe her but…it was the fog…there was…. Something was holding me back." I put my hand to my throat, as if I could actually feel a physical collar there. "I don't know what it was. That feeling…that aura…It was something I never felt it before."

Gon frowned at this. There was something off about the way his eyes darkened anxiously, but I didn't dwell on it.

Jei's face was expressionless. "Anyway," he spoke, his voice strangely distorted. "Afterwards, things started to get a little bit ugly…."

* * *

_Aimi walked over into the small beam of moonlight shining into the place, and turned her head upward. The brightness shone on her, on her clothes, on her face. Illuminating her.  
_

_"Do you know what I want now, Yuki? I want you to stop lying. Admit that you were wrong. Admit that you were guilty. That'd make me so happy…if you just take responsibility for your actions."  
_

_"I'm not guilty," Yuki countered.  
_

_Faster than her eye could follow, a snarling blur shot past her body__ with ridiculous speed, ruffling her hair and slicing the side of her stomach thinly._

_**Slash.**_

_Yuki bit back the pain. She was panting and dripping sweat, traces of blood etching morbid patterns across her flesh._

_"Admit it."_

_"No. I'm not guilty."  
_

_**Slash. Slash.  
**_  
_Knife stabbing. Blade twisting. Pain lengthening. The slashes were coming from everywhere. _

_The brightness dimmed._

_The bang of pain seared through Yuki's head, cleanly wiping out her vision, plunging her into an unfamiliar abyss of darkness. Then the air screamed like metal cutting glass as the knife slashed with such a force that she thought she would soon break in two._

_She felt dizzy; the sky behind Aimi spun on occasion. Had she lost that much blood? Or maybe it was the adrenaline mixed with the blood loss.  
_

___Yuki fell to her shoulder, rolled onto her side. With her eyes closed, she counted – slowly – to fifty. ____She took a deep breath and did it again. ____Shaking, she got to her knees, then to her feet.  
_

_"I'm not guilty," she rasped, struggling to keep herself upright. Stronger. "I'm innocent."  
_

___**Slash. **__**Slash. **__**Slash.**_

_"Aw, poor child," Aimi said mockingly, undisturbed, unaffected by the torture scene. "So full of fire, so consumed by your loss…by the idea of loss__…_ How long has it been since you truly knew peace, Yuki? How many times have you pushed yourself to your breaking point, and beyond? Do you think that'd work now? How much more can you sacrifice before you have nothing left to give?"

_A long string of saliva and bile clung to Yuki's lower lip. She was on all fours, the damp from the grass and the soil beneath it soaking through the skin of her knees. Rocking back and forth, she spat blood. Breathed. Spat. Tried breathing again. More blood. And again.  
_

_The brightness dimmed further._

_The blonde looked at her enemy, satisfied. There was a flash of metal in her hand._

_She aimed the gun at the girl on the ground, a hand gripping the underside of the barrel, a finger round the trigger, an eye closed, another squinting._

_"Poor little you. Still waiting for your happy ending."_

* * *

The silence that followed Jei's last sentence had been suffocating—I wanted to breathe deep and clear and eradicate it. Even if only for a little while.

My lids squeezed shut, in a feeble attempt at trying to disappear, a game of hide-and-seek made of nightmares. So many thoughts whizzed through my head, dizzying and undiscernable like bright lights on a dark night. Ferris wheels going round and round again.

I closed myself off for long enough, and so I could push so many thoughts to the back of my mind. The same thoughts that made me want to scream. The same thoughts that made me want to fall to my knees as racking sobs attacked my body; the same thoughts that left me angry and disgusted.

I felt like choking.

I _was _choking.

Jei stopped. "D-do you want to take a break…maybe continue later or…"

"No. No, keep going." I turned back to him, catching his eyes just as they flit to my face. I swallowed down my nerves and decided to press those buttons that would get him to continue. "Please, I want to know everything."

Resting his elbows on his knees, Jei nodded. "Then we arrived," he said, frowning in concentration. "Killua was already pissed at me for following after him, so when we arrived, he asked me to hide. He said he could handle it by himself. I didn't doubt that back then."

"Did he…kill them?"

"No, he didn't. He wanted to. Boy, did he want to. But he didn't," Jei replied, quickly dismissing the thought. "You were there. He wouldn't kill in front of you…not after the way you freaked out when he almost blew that airhead's head off. He decided to change his tactics."

I nodded, memories coming to the surface once more like debris skimming water. A strange, languorous lightness cradled me gently.

I saw Gon nodding next to me.

Jei snorted, rolling his eyes in anger. "He shouldn't have, though."

* * *

_Yuki lay on the ground, semi-conscious. ____She couldn't tell where it hurt. Because blackness finally took her away. Away from everything. The whole of her body was soaking wet and blood kept streaking into her many wounds, igniting them to the point where she wanted to fall dead on the spot. Her breathing, although jagged and erratic, was somehow able to be controlled by her panic-stricken mind. Her jaw locked from the sheer intensity of it._

_She was writhing and clawing, but if she came in contact with anything, she couldn't do anything. Every fiber of her body was scalding. Every nerve, every cell, every part. She was sinking into a black void; the vertigo hit her like a brick wall. The sense of falling was sickening. It was enough to drive anyone insane—and she lost all direction, all knowledge of time.  
_

___Aimi's arm extended, pointing the gun. The trigger made a_ soft, scraping noise.

_"You know, Yuki. I'm really sorry 'bout your dress," Aimi said, showing the first sign of sympathy. __She turned to her brother, who dropped the knife and stood a few feet away. __"I hate to see a good piece of fashion getting trashed so… tragically. What a pity."_ _  
_

___Yuki spat one last time. She had an undeniable urge to laugh. Her lips tasted irony. _

___But then….  
_

_A figure swept in at preternatural speed, invisible to the human eye—only a long tail whipping about behind it. None of them could see at first. None of them could follow its trail as it zigzagged left, straight, and right._

_Suddenly, two hands were around Aimi's brother's head, twisting it. He was being dragged upward. Something sharp was poking him in the tender hollow at the bottom of his neck. He tried to fight the person behind him, flailing an arm backward, trying to grab something, but he was rewarded by a vicious kick at his legs enough to knock him off balance.  
_

_"Killua-kun!" Aimi cheered delightfully, ignoring her own brother's harsh whimpers. "Oh, my god! This is like a cosmic reunion in the woods! The Villian, the Prince Charming, and the Damsel in Distress." She turned to her brother with a sweet smile. "Too bad, Yuki, your prince charming turned out to be just a loser in an aluminum foil. He was too late!"  
_

_Yuki stilled and slowly turned, her face shuttered and wary. She was completely silent, nearly paralyzed and totally motionless. Killua was here. He came. He was here. She was incapable of thinking anything else.  
_

_Killua focused intently on the armed frantic blonde, his eyes so dark, dark, dark in the night, like liquid onyx, captivatingly dangerous. "Let her go," he commanded, his hands ready to snap and stab the twin's neck. "Let her go and then we can settle this."_

_Aimi laughed, a remarkably genuine laugh for someone in a life-or-death standoff. The insanity was back into her eyes. "Sorry, not part of the deal," she retorted. "There have got be higher stakes than your worthless settlement."_

_"If she dies, your brother's following." Killua's voice was cold, deadly: steel pointed traps and sickly poison. A cold rage welled up in his eyes, sweeping through the air. Looking into those eyes made Yuki think of a cobra; the pupils slitted, slightly reflective in the moonlight. "If you agree to make the right decision and let her go safely, I'll give you whatever you want. That'll be the end of it; you'll get out of here with your brother, and I won't come after you. You'll be safe," he told her. "If you know me, you know I keep my word." _

_Aimi was scowling, blinking furiously, her eyes shifting between Killua and her brother's bluish face. Her hand was strong as ever around the gun._

_Killua was not finished. "But…" His face altered, revulsion twisting and freezing, becoming cruel and bitterly hard. "But if you don't, if you're sure you want to play this game with me, you should know the consequences, because I don't know what kind of an avenger I am. I don't know what I'll be capable of," he said quietly, ominously. "Don't help me figure that out."_

_Yuki flinched._

_And so did Aimi, but her scowl was hardening. This time, fat drops of tears were flowing down her flushed cheeks._

_"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?" she screamed, resignation reaching her eyes, shattering her gaze, becoming almost a look of begging. "Are you a fool? If you save her, she'll kill you! She'll want to kill you! She hates you! She thinks you're trash! She wants you dead! She broke your heart and soon she'll break _you_ if she stays alive! Don't you know that?"  
_

_"I know," Killua said evenly, his face unreadable. "Let her go."  
_

_Aimi gritted her teeth, a lost look on her face. Her brother's eyes were losing focus—his breath rasped through his broken nose and bruised throat._

_A change of understanding come over Aimi's face, the confusion lifting, replaced by a grim determination. Her hand shifted, aiming the gun at Killua's head now. "Or maybe I must shoot you first," she said, smiling. "You saw how good I am. I shot all these bulky bodyguards. I never missed one. It'd be so easy to shoot you right now. Your life has always been a total waste. A hollow shell." She grinned at Killua's__ blank-eyed_ face. "_Might as well end.__"  
_

_Then the tide of the battle suddenly turned.  
_

_"I lied," Yuki said, in amazement to everyone in the place. She climbed to her knees, her muscles screaming in agony, but she managed to straighten herself up. She shuddered and shook, nauseated and disoriented, and wrapped an arm around her torso. Looking straight into Aimi's eyes, she repeated, "I lied. I was lying all this time."  
_

_Aimi arched an eyebrow, her eyes narrowing.  
_

_Killua turned, startled.  
_

_Yuki was on her feet, struggling, willing herself not to recoil at the brief sting of pain._ _"I actually did kill your brother," she said. "It was _my_ knife that went through his chest. I killed him. Not just that, __I watched_ as the life left his eyes, turning them vacant; dead…_turning him into _nothing_. And I enjoyed it, Aimi." She managed a small, egocentric smirk. "I really enjoyed it. I enjoyed it pretty damn much. Every last bit of it. What can I say? It was absolutely the best moment of my life."  
_

_Aimi let out a chilling, inhuman yowl; her anger, agony and grief finally tore through the clearing in waves. She, overwhelmed, and with so little control over herself, turned back on Yuki, filled with vengeful madness. Her growls were loud and threatening when she pulled the trigger and fired blindly.  
_

_**BANG!**_

_The sonorous gunshot shook the entire forest._

_Yuki didn't scream―she was beyond screaming. Her chest burned. Her lung collapsed. She couldn't look; the sound had shut her eyes. She couldn't move. She could just fall._

_**BANG!**_

_Another shot was fired. Blood was running in long thick rivulets from Aimi's neck, and her mouth opened in shock as she clutched at herself and slowly fell forward.  
_

_Behind her, Jei stood, his usually cool eyes burning like dark coals in his face. "I've always hated that bitch," he said, his voice fierce. His gun pointed at Killua.  
_

_**BANG!**_ _**BANG!**_ _**BANG!**_

_Three bullets landed expertly in Aimi's brother's forehead, neck and heart, killing him instantly. His body fell into a loose loop onto the ground, hitting the rocks with a crunch._

_Jei shook his head in exasperation. "When you see a psychotic twins, kill their asses. NOT listen to their crazy and then kill their asses. Dude, you can't afford to be all nice and noble now!" He stuffed the gun back in his pocket and ran to where Yuki was. "Dammit…Killua, I need your help. There is no way I'm going to carry her anywhere," he said, trying to hold her down, trying to be gentle. His voice was trembling. "Killua, she needs your help."_

_Killua was frozen in shock, eyes wide. Disbelieving. He stood where he was, staring down at her falling body. There was rustling in the trees and branches snapping. His mind refused to process what he was seeing. There was blood everywhere. Everywhere, everywhere, it was coming from everywhere._

_He dropped to his knees._

_He put a hand on her neck, trying to feel her pulse, trying to figure out where he could put pressure to try to stop the bleeding._

_Her whole body was shaking. Fresh blood ran in crimson streams against her pale skin._

_"She's dying," Jei stated simply. "There's no way around it. She's bleeding a lot. She's not conscious. It's too late, it's too―"_

_"Wake up!" Killua ordered, cupping her heavy head, shaking her―hard. His voice shouted on its own. "Wake up! Open your eyes!" He frantically slapped her icy cheek a bit, trying to arouse her, but there was no response. "Don't do this to me now, come on, open your eyes." Nothing. His movements dulled. He exhaled weakly. "Damn you, wake up!" Not giving up, he fiercely gripped both her arms, teeth gritted, brows furrowed, and set off wild jolts of electric shocks through her body. The desperate currents ran down and into her skin, piercing it, flowing smoothly through her like a lamp lighting, a bell ringing, or a motor turning, thrusting in her chest._

_Suddenly, she opened her eyes with a deep gulp of air. With the motion came a burning, not a heat, but boiling water, skin to star fire, flesh to flame. A sting so encompassing that she was almost sure acid was inside her veins._

_Killua cupped her chin lightly with his fingers. "Yuki. Yuki, look at me. Focus. Look at me," he spoke slowly, sounding out each word like he was talking to a child. "I'm here. You're safe." Everything seemed very distant. Everything was spinning. But she managed to focus on his face, blinked, blinked, blinked, and then as if a rubber band holding her back had snapped, she threw herself in his arms, clasping him around the neck._

_"…You came. You're here__…_." Her mouth twitched in a small smile, an odd shadow of softness in her voice. He was here. After all this time, all these things. He'd always been here. He'd always been around, in the back-round, perhaps, but always here.

_"I'm gonna get you out of here. You're gonna be fine." He enfolded her in his embrace as he pulled her back to safety. To himself. His arms held her, and she couldn't help but hold him back to her as the only solid thing in the rushing world around her. She clung onto him, like a person dangling from a cliff._

_"I was so scared," she chocked out._

_"Shh, I know. I've got you now," Killua said, trying to keep his voice more composed… more confident. "Keep breathing for me."_

_Vaguely, she was aware that her feet were not on the ground anymore, and she was moving. The edges of her vision became dimmer. Movements became nothing but spastic, sporadic jerks. She heard Jei's voice saying something, but could not distinguish what it was._

_The shaking got worse; her arms and legs were vibrating in a rapid rhythm. Her eyes were losing focus. The darkness swept up around her once again, and she was ready to give in to it gratefully._

_She breathed in deep and felt the cold burn in her lungs._

_Her head was falling back, but she forced it to loll to one side, pressing her face into Killua's shirt._

_The last few bursts of pain had finally breached her tolerance, and her head became unsteady. Shivering, she was drifting away again. Falling, sinking, slipping away. It was so…comfortable. Like falling asleep, only deeper.  
_

_She could only fall deeper and deeper, down and down through the crust of the earth, until she was in the core of the planet. In the belly of the sun._

_Her mind was trying to cope by retreating in her consciousness. She needed to be awake, for her, for him, but everything felt murky._

_The last thing she remembered was that she was moving her hand to Killua's blurry face, and her bloody fingertips finally touched something―his cheek._

_"I'm so sorry."_

_She did not know what she was apologizing for — for not listening to him, for letting him see her like this, for his past, or for her past, she did not know. Perhaps she was apologizing for not being perfect._

_Then the shaking stopped, and she was very still. Her eyelids slid down over her eyes._

* * *

I'd wondered what it would take to grant me my epiphany. I guess dying on the hands of a 'psychotic twin' did the trick.

Lazily tracing the scar on my chest, I rewound that night in my head.

_What was I thinking that night? Were they the same thoughts I'm thinking right now?_

The conversations, the memories seemed ethereal in the daytime. Like they were things that happened under cloak of darkness, that were vanquished by the sun. Like confessions, and admissions, and…honesty.

I sighed, hearing my pulse in my ears. It was weird being confronted with myself. Weird to say that my name was Yuki and I lost track of my life because of my bad choices. The words felt so easy to say.

My name was Yuki and I lost the track of my life because of my bad choices and I'd been lonely and I'd been scared that I always would be.

My name was Yuki and I lost the track of my life because of my bad choices and I'd been lonely and I'd been scared that I always would be _and _I feared that more than making more bad choices, sometimes. Sometimes all I was, was fear… all I was, was cold… all my fire frozen, all my defense mechanisms broken.

Even though my years were still so small, I wanted to go back to past times and change them, completely—not all of them, only certain parts: the ones where things started to fall apart, pages pulled from my book and torn.

I wanted to be happy. There were so many things I wanted. There were so many things I longed to learn and plan. I wanted to do what I wanted and bear no consequences, even if they started just as small as something like that. And more than anything, I wanted to want these things enough to actually go ahead with them, and no longer hide in my shell. I wanted to be six again._  
_

I wanted to find that little girl, take her hand and apologize. I'd lost her for too long in the midst of my past._  
_

"Hey…do you guys know that the gazelle is _way_ faster than the lion, but even though, it always falls prey to the lion's jaws," Jei said casually, randomly, startling both Gon and me. He was making a joke; he was dead serious. "Do you guys know why?"

Gon and I looked at each other for a moment, puzzled.

Even though his attention was centered on the DS in his hands, Jei answered, "Because when the gazelle runs away from the lion, the gazelle believes that the lion is definitely going to eat it, eventually, no matter how much it runs away and regardless of how fast it is. The gazelle believes that it's the weak one, which makes it too paranoid, and that's why it keeps looking back at the running lion, just to test the distance between the two of them. This gesture, this very simple glance, is very fatal. And it negatively affects the gazelle's speed, which also affects the distance between the gazelle and the lion. And that's why the lion always gets the gazelle.

"If the gazelle never looks back, the lion can never catch it. And if the gazelle is more confident in what it has, then it'll always survive. If you keep looking back, then your past will keep getting at you. And if your past keeps getting at you, you will just keep losing."

Gon's lips quirked up in understanding. "Because the past is irrelevant."

"Exactly." Jei finally looked at us. "Just like fancy paper and ribbons―they have no relevance to the _present_ that's inside."

Gon laughed. "That's a very lame pun, Jei."

"Tch. You're just jealous of my awesome puns." Jei's smile was so unlike him, but he quickly lost it, smoothing his face into its usual cool expression, as if embarrassed. "What I meant to say is, don't be a stupid damned gazelle. Or be one, but at least have faith in what you have. Let who you are be the part you wanted." He looked at me. "Because the plain, unwrapped you is the most goddamn precious thing in the world. Priceless and irreplaceable."

There. That was all I needed to hear.

I didn't know if the feeling that gripped my chest was anticipation or anxiety. I just knew that I was suddenly smiling.

And I was asking:

"Where is he?"

Jei's eyebrows sprang up.

Realization hit Gon's face, and he grinned widely.

"In the hallway," Jei said.

I carelessly and hurriedly removed the IVs and all the other probes out of my arm. There was no fresh wounds still oozing blood, no evidence of the slashes except for the pink, shiny scars. I got up, my feet touching the cold floor.

I unlocked the door, and I was out of the room.

I ran down the hallways, my bare feet slapping on the floor, matching the sharp painful beats of my heart. I saw faces and heard voices as I wended my way past the blurry bodies around me. People rushed past me, and I rushed past them, but it was distant, my body and my soul were disconnected. I registered the movement but it meant nothing to me. I went through a hallway, another hallway, a different-looking hallway, the same hallway I passed three times. I felt so high on adrenaline I thought I could probably fly to_ that_ hallway.

I sensed him before I saw him. I rounded another corner, and I saw him immediately, staring through the window of the empty hallway, his back to me. I stopped moving. His head turned slightly, instinctively. I could almost see his mind analyzing the sounds of my loud breathing. The tilt of his head told me what he was listening to, and the lift of his chin hinted of the scents he was gathering. Killua turned his face to me, catching my eyes. His own eyes were cloudy, as if they had been lost this whole time.

I didn't move or talk, just drank him in, just gloried in this feeling of homecoming. Recognizing it for what it was.

A small peaceful island in a universe of hell.

I tried to filter my vision to see only one at a time, to avoid being engulfed. I focused first on his eyes, the dark jewels of teal, the long lashes that lay on his cheek as he studied me. His skin was gold against the white. His light brows were set in his customary faint frown.

I closed my eyes for a moment. He blazed too bright.

This was going to be one of those moments; one that would leave tiny little footprints all over my being.

His lashes swept down and up again as his eyes narrowed the slightest bit. They were full of words; I could read them there like a prayer from a card. I rejoiced in response. All my feelings were reflected there, in those bluish-green eyes, and I found my voice.

"I hated you," I began, my voice surprisingly steady, my fists clenched beside me.

For a very short moment, he looked away and his expression was one of indescribable sadness, but then his familiar barriers slid into place, and his face was almost as if no emotion had ever crossed it.

"I hated you for so long. I had always thought of you as the person who tore me apart. I wailed to you about everything I thought was wrong with my life and how miserable I was. I was dreadful to you because I was so frustrated and hurt and angry because of something that was neither my choice or yours. I was so selfish. And stupid. And scared―my whole life. I was stupid that I let this fear win because it robbed me of so much… and hurt you so badly. And still…you were going to fight for me, to force me to open up and let you in. You wanted to make me be the person you believed I could be. You wanted to save me.

"But no one could have saved me then. You got as close as was humanly possible. Before you, I thought that this world was full of shit…hate…I thought it was a bad place. I thought I'd never be destined to feel any kind of warmth. But you proved me wrong. You made me happy. You were the worst and the best thing that had ever happened in my life. You made me the person I wanted to be, not the person I am. I had thought of you as the person who tore me apart, but you're also the person who taped me back together. It took me a while to realize that. Because sometimes I got lost in the labyrinth of my own insecurities, locked away with my inner demons, but now I know that it's very possible to find the way out."_  
_

My words seemed to register with his body, because he stood up straighter and slipped his hands out of his pockets.

"And I also know that…" I cleared my throat and looked at him. "Hating you was the most exhausting thing I've ever had to do. I don't wanna do it anymore."

Surprise flecked in his eyes.

"When I look at you right now, I don't see the evil, filthy person who ruined people's lives. I see the boy who struggled against the darkness inside himself and fought with all his might to change. And there's something about this immense mental strength and determination to be more than you were that makes you look better to me than ever. There's more to you now. Every single one of your words is clearer than crystal and I understand them all so well. It made me feel guilty, because I made _you_ feel guilty. Forgive yourself and stop thinking you should be such an invincible superhero archangel perfect Saint. Be mortal for change and hate me a little. And then forgive me, too."

Killua slumped a little, as if the force of his feelings had kept him upright, but the shadows had given him a moment of privacy as he turned his face into them.

"I have disappointed you. Not because I couldn't understand you, but because I couldn't understand myself. I wasn't trying to choose between this you and that nine-year-old kid. It was a choice between me and my twisted self, and that demon won and would have gone on winning no matter what you did. Perhaps the only thing you _could_ do was to leave me alone with my struggles. I'm so sorry it had to hurt you like that. I'm sorry for everything. I'm not being kind and sweet to you right now, just completely selfish. I need you, because _now_ I think you could save me. And perhaps I could save you, too."

The place was so quiet, so cold, the skin on my arms prickling as I stood and waited him to speak.

He stood there in the same position and regarded me, unmoving, unblinking, unbreathing.

"Killua?" I saw him tense as I got nearer, and I purposefully stepped back. "Say something?" I demanded, and waited a bit more.

And waited.

And waited.

What he said next was something I never, ever expected to hear:

"How hard did you hit your head?"

I blinked. "Um…what?"

Killua's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Must be the Morphine talking. You don't know what you're talking about."

"I do." I took a step forward, but he held his hand out to stop me.

"Whoa, no, no, no," he responded quickly. "Don't come near me. You don't know what you're saying. You can't―Dammit, you can't…say that…when you don't… You don't mean that…"

"I mean it. Every word."

_Five feet away._

"No, you don't. I know you. You don't… you don't talk like that. You can't talk like that. This isn't happening." A step back. "You're not thinking clearly." _  
_

I took a tiny step. "Killua―"

"No, stop." He glanced at my feet and backed up. "Don't say my name… like that. Don't. Stop right there."

The panic in his eyes made me smile.

"I know what I'm doing, Killua."

"No, you don't." Another step back. "You… don't. You hate me."

"I shouldn't have."

"But…I'm a Zaoldyeck," he reminded me.

_Four feet away._

"I know. Doesn't matter."

"I…" His back hit the window. "I killed people. Lots of people. I killed…"

"Won't matter."

_Three feet away._

"I…" His eyes widened further when he realized that he ran out of words to say. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the window. "Don't come near me," he said. "If you do, I won't be held accountable for my actions. You don't understand." He looked at the small distance between our feet. "If you come one step closer…" He looked at me and I felt hope beginning to fill my heart. "…You should know that I'm never letting you go."

We held each other's gaze for a heavy moment. I felt every inch of the space between us. Crossing it was going to be like taking the first step into a chasm whose opposite side was barely visible. There were no maps for where I needed to go now. I needed to draw my own.

I couldn't go backwards. I could only go forwards.

It would be scary, the most frightening thing I'd ever done. It would be a commitment—the most important one I'd ever made. It required me to be a better girl than I thought I was capable of. I was taking a huge gamble.

This was the moment. The one where I got to choose. From here, my future branched into two distinct time lines: one in which I made that simple move, took that one step. And one in which I pushed him away and resigned myself to forever wondering, 'what if?'

I was not the gambling type. I'd never understood how some people got addicted to games in which the probability of losing was staggeringly high. They were not stupid people. They knew the odds weren't in their favor, and yet they risked more than they could possibly afford to lose.

Right now, in this endless moment, I think I finally got it.

Losing wasn't what drives them. It was the glimmer of that one spectacular win. The jackpot that was painted with bright lights and neon happiness; showers of confetti, and a giant check from The Bank of Happily-Ever-After. _That _was the rush that kept them putting their hands in their pockets, time and time again. The thrilling heart-pounding moment of 'what if?' the second before the ball dropped, or the card turned, or the tumbler fell into place.

A thousand to one. Two thousand. Seventy thousand.

The first number was almost irrelevant. It was the 'one' that made people take the risk. That elusive, magical '_one_'.

_No feet away. _

_Here._

"Do you promise?" I placed my palm over his heart, the first voluntary contact I'd made for days. The initial shock froze us both in our tracks. "Do you?"

He closed his eyes.

His brows wrinkled.

I felt that tick-tick, thump-thump beneath my palm, the beat that I wanted to stop not so long ago.

I felt a wave of tender gratitude crash inside me.

For a moment he just stared at my hand, like he expected steel talons to explode from my fingertips and pierce his chest. His jaw started clenching and releasing, his heartbeat hammering beneath my hand.

His eyes held mine, and that beat was so fast, fast, fast below my touch. His eyes were full of me, imploring and open. Not the angry fire we usually spit at each other when we were this close. Something just as impassioned, but different. Pleading.

"I can only give you what I've got," he said, his face showing the first hint of vulnerability I'd seen in a long time. Years.

My lips parted. "That's all I want," I answered, trying to make him see.

He studied my face, gaze back and forth between my eyes. "What if it's not enough?" he questioned, trying to keep his tone light, but running through it was a palpable hesitancy. It was in his face, too. It made him so human. It made me think of the child he was once. The confused child with the broken smile and the wonder in his eyes. The little boy who was horrifically abused and neglected, conflicted and so very lost. I knew he was still there somewhere.

"It will be," I told him. "I'll make it enough."

His heartbeat slowed, but he was still and unresponsive. I watched him. Watching Killua process good news was fascinating. First, he frowned at it. Then he took the news, he examined it, and looked for cracks. As if he wondered why he would ever deserve anything good.

His hand brushed over my cheek, his thumb running under my eye.

"I thought about leaving," he admitted. "I thought it was what you wanted. If that was what you wanted, I'd have let you go. If you thought you were better off without me, I'd have stepped aside."

I took in an unsteady breath and leaned into his hand, looking for the type of courage I hadn't felt for a long time. He watched and waited, patiently letting me navigate through the reservations and fears that were always smothering the fearless girl I always knew.

I looked at my own hand and let my fingers play with his shirt button. "So, if I told you I didn't want you, and I wanted you dead, and needed you out of my life, you'd stop fighting for me?" I asked, looking up at him. "You'd just… let me go?"

His tightened his jaw and slid his hand over mine, pressing it into his chest. Fingers tangled with mine; they fit there so easy, so right, like connecting pieces of a puzzle. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because you'd be lying."

I let out a shaky breath and smiled ruefully. "Yes, I would."

He smiled, and it felt like someone turned up all of the lights in the entire city. It was the warmest smile I'd ever seen on a face of someone. He was complete when he smiled like this. I was complete when he smiled like this.

He lifted his arm in silent invitation. Without any second thought, I curled into his warm chest, burrowing my face into his shirt, my hand still over his heart, there with his. He tucked his face into the side of my neck and I hugged him as tightly as I could. Wanting to absorb some of the pain I'd caused.

_This_ is what peace felt like to me. Like someone who cared enough to feed you the things you wanted to eat. Someone who paid attention to you. Someone who saw you and liked to. Liked to look at you, even though you weren't perfect. He made it seem like even if I wanted to leave, he wouldn't let me. And I let him make me feel safe, small, protected.

He pulled back, soft smiles especially for me, and mine turned into a shrieking laughter when his arm lifted me off the ground, staring up at me as my arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders for balance.

"I promise," he finally said.

I didn't realize how big I was smiling. Huge. Easy.

His eyes, mere inches from mine, making me believe I could forget anything bad ever happened. That strength…I needed it more than my next breath.

I convinced myself, long ago, that I would be _fine_ on my own. That I could always kill my own spiders. I could always fix my own anything. But it was not the doing of those things that mattered. It was having someone who _wanted_ to do those things for you. Who waited for your smile, who hated your tears and your self-doubt.

In my life there had been moments of happiness. Glimpses here, there. But there had never been _rightness_. There had never been completion. Being close to him, I felt the iron melt from my heart.

I felt like home.

I felt like myself.

* * *

**A/N: END OF THE SECOND ARC.  
**

No, dear reader, you're wrong. This can't possibly be the end of the story. If I were writing a trilogy, this would be where I close the last page of the second book. But I'm not, and I'm not planning to write a different story and confuse all my readers by doing so. That being said, this story is going to be wrapped up in its third arc.  
Killua and Yuki's journey isn't quite finished yet. In fact, it has just begun. If I were you, I'd look forward to seeing where they'll take us  
next.

More juiciness is coming next.

Anyway, thank you all for reading this far! You make this so much fun.


	34. The Puppet Master

**A/N:** Hi guys! You are so amazing. I cannot believe the love for this story. Thank you all for your reviews and PMs and words and just for being you and reading. Without your love and support, I'd have let this story fall by the wayside. Trust me, if I had time, not only would I be responding to your reviews, but I'd be updating this at least once every week.

This is the opening of the new arc, so it's a short chapter. Some of you asked questions and most of them should be answered through the course of the story.

* * *

_**35. The Puppet Master**_

* * *

When the end credits started rolling, Killua―who had his arms and legs crossed throughout the entire movie―turned his attention from the small TV to me and said, "You know what, I'm pissed."

I thanked the nurse who'd finally brought me my dinner's tray and waited for her to leave the room before I asked him, "Why are you pissed?"

He pulled his chair closer to the side of my bed. "Because the main character obviously stole my schtick. _I_ was the rascal billionaire crime maker the world couldn't seem to get enough of."

"You're no longer a billionaire crime maker," I pointed out, taking another bite of the tasteless rice. It was like eating rubber, but that didn't matter. I was starving.

"_Rascal_ billionaire crime maker," Killua corrected.

I shook my head. "Anyone who knows you—_and_ doesn't know you—knows you're a total rascal. Besides, the main character wasn't an assassin. _You_ were."

He huffed. "Semantics. Just like me, he was rich, charming, handsome, impossibly smart, irresistible—"

"Ah, but he lacked the modesty you apparently have in spades."

Killua smirked. "Good point." His nose wrinkled when I stuffed my mouth with another gigantic spoonful, and another, and another. "Whoa…easy there. You eat like a baby dinosaur."

I swallowed and gave him an indignant look. "This is my first proper meal in seven days. I'd eat anything. I'd eat _you_ if I put my mind to it." Seeing the way his eyes lit up devilishly, I rushed to add, "If you say what's on your mind right now, I _will_ call my nurse to sexually harass you."

He looked puzzled. "What nurse?"

"For someone who is 'impossibly smart', you really are oblivious to women, aren't you?" He stared at me blankly, still puzzled. "You really haven't noticed her? The one who came in here two hours ago to check my blood pressure. The young one with the freckles? Kinda short?" He frowned, not following me, so I continued, "A redhead? Wears no bra?"

"Oh, that one's a redhead?" he teased. I rolled my eyes, smiling and smacking his arm. He was still a dirty bastard. Same old, same old. "What about her?"

"She clearly has a thing for you. She's been watching you for a week. When you were out to call Gon, she stormed in and asked me about you. She's knitted you a sweater vest and wanted to know if you were single."

Killua's incredulity dropped. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her that you don't wear sweater vests."

"No, I mean about me being single."

I took an unnecessary sip of my water to avoid his gaze, as if my face wasn't hot enough. "I said… umm… I thought you were _spoken for_."

"Thought?"

"Um…yeah."

His hand moved to my chin, forcing me to tilt my head up, and I don't know how he made me look into his eyes, but he did. "Spoken for?" he asked, eyebrows raised in undisguised curiosity.

"Yeah."

Killua pondered this for a second. "I like the sound of that," he said, looking at me. His eyes, far too green and compelling, were soft, and gone were all the traces of the childish humor he'd just been displaying. "Next time you see her, tell her that he's most definitely spoken for. Has been since he was nine."

His unexpectedly sweet words took me by surprise—and all I could do was grin back. If our old dynamic had been about trying to be as blasé about him as possible, the new one was about me fretting over him every moment, and I didn't bother hiding it. "You know what we should do?" I asked, hoping my words would distract him from noticing my blush. "We need to set some new rules."

He picked up a random magazine from the ones on the nightstand and lazily flicked through it. "I thought you said we were not a board game."

I wiped my mouth with a napkin. "I did say that. But things are different now. You can't deny that we're both going to be high-maintenance in our own ways. We'd drive each other crazy without some ground rules."

"We don't need rules for this. We know each other. Friends who understand each other sounds like the perfect relationship to me."

"Then you and Leorio should date."

Killua made a disgusted face. "Let me rephrase that. Friends, understanding, and _you_ sounds like the perfect relationship to me."

I blushed and swooned a little. But I was still me, even if I was this enamored version of myself. "No, it's not. We can simply―" I watched him flip another page of the magazine and gave out a sighing groan. Aggravated, I reached out and slammed the magazine shut, making him flinch and look at me, finally. "If you take this seriously, I'll give you my pudding," I promised, looking pointedly at the chocolate-flavored cup of pudding on my tray. "You want it. I know about your 'hungry eyes.'"

Killua stared at me for a very long moment. Then he shrugged. "Okay."

I rolled my eyes and handed him the brown cup and the spoon. It was so easy to bribe him.

He dug in the custard-like texture as I tried to watch him as surreptitiously as possible. I probably had a different type of hungry eyes right now. He turned to me and smirked at the glazed look on my face, but instead of saying something silly or witty, he offered me a bite. I nodded and leaned toward him, but instead of handing me the spoon, he fed it to me. As I licked it off the spoon, I watched him watching my mouth with undisguised, masculine interest. Something similar rolled through me, making me freeze in my place, until his eyes flicked up to mine, I jolted back to life.

I sat back and looked away before my mind could continue making correlations between what I was doing to the melting pudding in my mouth and what he had done to me.

"Uhm…rules."

He cleared his throat. "Yeah."

"Rule number one can stay the way it is. No annoying each other," I said. His shoulders dropped in disappointment the way they did the first time I suggested this a week ago. He obviously didn't like this rule. "Alright. No annoying each other _too much_."

"Okay," Killua said, throwing the now empty cup of pudding―which he had finished with three bites―in the nearby trash can. "If we're going to do this, rule number two will be: no acting like it's inevitable that we're eventually going to break up."

"Well…I can't help being realistic—"

"Cynical," Killua corrected.

"_Realistic,_" I insisted, giving him a look, "—about relationships. People break up a lot, right? Who knows what's gonna happen." He looked at me quizzically, but then his face completely changed. It went from one of confusion to one of nothingness as he averted his eyes from my face to the window. He was putting on a mask, but nothing could mask that look in his eyes. Those damn tantalizing eyes. I smoothed the frown line between his brows with my thumb. "What's wrong?"

"…I don't know." His tone told me he was somewhat serious. "I don't want to make the mistake of over-thinking this. I've got you now. I don't want to ruin that again."

My heart melted a little. He wanted so badly for this all to be perfect. What happened recently was hard on him, too. The lack of color in his face and the dark circles under his eyes proved that better than anything. All of a sudden, I was filled with an almost overwhelming pang. I wanted him to know that I heard and understood what he said, that I wanted this to be as good for him as he was making it for me.

Pushing the rolling tray table aside, I patted an empty space on the bed in front of me, gesturing for him to sit. He did. Reaching out my hands, I caught one of his and pulled it onto my lap, my fingers curling into his palm. His hand was rough and calloused, tough with muscle and old scars, but there was softness to his touch. Looking into his eyes, I saw worry there, and I understood it. Even if _he'd_ been so sure about us, he wasn't as confident that _I_ was, and I could see the slight fear that I was eventually going to find this too overwhelming and pull away again.

Fiddling with our fingers, I admitted, "I actually don't know how to be a girlfriend. I might mess it up." I wanted to admit my insecurities right now, just to show him what he was getting himself into. Perhaps my admission would give him strength. It would show him that I cared, that I was willing to work on this as much as he did. I wanted to confirm that I was ready to be right where he was.

To my delight, he smiled. "No sweat. You don't need to be a girlfriend. You don't need to be anything. I wanted you when you were just being yourself."

My heart swelled three sizes until it was too big for my chest, so I tried to let it out through my smile. But I couldn't resist teasing him: "What if 'myself' is a bitch?"

"'What if'?" Killua scoffed. I tightened my grip in a punishing squeeze, making him wince and grin. My attempts at teasing apparently weren't quite as good as his. "Oh, come on, you just face it. I know you like you know me. Nasty behavior and all."

"Okay, okay. Whatever. Rule number three can be: no more secrets."

"Or lies," he added.

"Definitely." I shrugged. "Rule number four: no being all jealous and possessive and stupid." Killua didn't say anything. He'd got his little boy pout on, where his eyes got inversely big to the size of his mouth. "What's with the face?"

He stared down at our hands. "Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "It's just that I—never mind. That rule is fine."

"Okay… what else?"

"Don't get whiny if I don't get all mushy and romantic," he told me. "'Cause I'm not."

"Don't get whiny if _I_ get all whiny."

He grinned. "Fair enough. Girls and their hormones, I'll get used to them. And if it ever bugs me, I'll let you know."

"Good. And if we ever break up―"

"Yuki…" he warned.

"I'm not going to be a Debbie Downer," I reassured. "Just hear me out. If we ever break up, I must receive a respectable amount of your candy as relationship alimony. Preferably fifty boxes every week."

He made a horrified face, and I pressed my lips together in an effort not to smirk_—_a smirk I sure picked up from him_—_but my efforts were rendered miserably useless as I grinned and watched him come back to earth. "You should see _your_ face right now," I gloated.

His eyebrows furrowed angrily as he exhaled. "Not funny. Man, breaking up with you is dangerous. And not in the cool, fun way."

Once he regained his composure, we talked for a while longer. I expected things to be different at first, because we'd been through a lot of negative changes for a short expanse of seven days. I thought that this negativity that fueled our problems would also fuel our connection. But it didn't. If anything, our problems made us stronger. Fortified. We were still just us, exactly the same. That prompted me to add one more thing.

"Rule number…whatever. Don't stop being my friend."

He smiled, lacing my fingers through his. "Oh, c'mon. I couldn't stop being your friend even if I tried. And I'd never try." He was still smiling when he said that, and I suddenly noticed a tiny laugh line right next to the corner of his mouth. It reminded me that all this time, I didn't know anything about him. He'd always been coded and guarded, but not anymore. It was the strangest feeling. He was so familiar and yet it felt like I was seeing him for the first time. Now that his secrets were out in the open, I got to see the _real_ him. The side that I never dwelled on or had the privilege to uncover. There was this whole other Killua, and I could finally see him now that he could be himself around me. No secrets and no lies.

But again, teasing him was always fun. "You just said the same thing the main character of that movie said to his sidekick."

"Don't mention him in front of me," Killua hissed. Just as quickly, he was back to his madness, no method needed. "I'm still furious about that movie. They blatantly ripped off my life and fictionalized it. Hell, he also stole my line. Since you're a blacklist hunter, you should help me sue the director and the actor for… defamation."

"Yes, Killua," I said, with all the sincerity that I could feign.

"You only say my name with that tone when you're placating me," he said, narrowing his eyes at me.

"Yes, Killua." I liked goading him sometimes. Just sometimes. "Actually, the main character started as a comic. Like _Batman_. So it's his creator whom you should hate."

"Sue him, too." He paused for one beat. "You know what, sue all of them. A reverse class-action suit. That'll teach them the consequences of messing with a Zaoldyeck." Another beat. "Of messing with… Zoaldyman?" He looked at me for my opinion.

I resisted rolling my eyes. "Stop trying to be a superhero. I won't be your sidekick."

"You're lucky I'm on the side of good. What if I was the villain?"

"Then I wouldn't be with you." I shrugged. "I don't date evil. That'd push me away. It's a deal breaker."

"Well, that can be an incentive to keep me on the righteous and straight." He smiled crookedly. When I looked back at him, the world seemed to constrict down to just me and him, looking at each other, holding hands. If it could just stay this way, we'd be perfect.

With his thumb brushing over the corner of my mouth, he regarded me for a minute, searched my face with that vivid green gaze before declaring, "It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you."

* * *

_On the other side of the world, the rules were different.  
_

_There was no such thing as happily ever after. The gentle walk into the sunset into the arms of a strifless destiny never existed. He knew that, living as he had for over two decades. He was a Zaoldyeck. He was the eldest son. The protector, the pillar, the provider… the big brother. He had witnessed wars and the darkest deeds of humanity and supernatural alike, just as he had witnessed moments of greatness and times of perfect peace. He had seen things crumble, watched them be rebuilt, much stronger than before.  
_

_His younger brother was the most perfect example of that.  
_

_His younger brother, the one with the potential and the expectations, had walked out of the ashes of devastation, scarred and shaken. He had his very foundations of trust and belief in others and himself torn down. He had been stripped bare of all he thought was true in this world and had been reborn in a wash of blood and hurt, fire and ice, and now he stood as someone new and infinitely stronger.  
_

_His younger brother was a phoenix in every sense of the term.  
_

_His palpable strength these past five years had been a governing force. He'd watched him save countless of humans from their unfortunate destinies. He'd watched him stand against countless of __monstrous_ creatures in order to help those he believed were important. He'd watched him throw his life away to help fulfilling the wish of a friend.  


_And tonight? Tonight he would watch his heart break.  
_

_Illumi was standing by the window with his back to the room that was once an inhabited church. Wooden crosses with pointed embellishments at each end stood at the focal point of the long-established altar. Silent pews sat empty, awaiting the masses to fill them and spread the false hope of the greater meaning of their lives. But there was nothing but the utter silence of death that permeated the air. It was calming. He could do whatever he wanted in silence and no one would know. It was how he worked as an assassin—with expert stealth inspired by silence. When silence surrounded him, he could be anything.  
_

_The air was thick with fog, drifting over the room like a wet blanket, the cold breeze blowing above the trees that surrounded the small church and safely hid it in the woods, completely out of view. It was for his advantage―he could watch, observe, and enjoy the scene before his eyes without getting discovered, something he was very good at.  
_

_Illumi stared at the twins and the girl in anticipation. He was charged with leashed power, just like the air between him and the upcoming storm. Though hidden, he was watching, participating as if he was there. It didn't matter if he was hidden, it didn't matter if he was separate from the battle scene; he was still very capable of ruling it._

_"Ten million zennies." A voice mused from the darkest corner of the room. The smooth, suspiciously soft tone of the speaker forced Illumi's head to turn slowly towards it, catching a glimpse of his wavy-haired companion who sat crossed-legged on the floor. His clever hands, his long, thin, almost feminine fingers shuffled his cards restlessly__ in one fast blur._

_Illumi stared, his silence demanding an explanation. There was no need for him to ask or talk to get people to do what he wanted; he could do that with just a look or a curtly spoken word. _

_It always worked._

_"I'll give you ten million zennies for your current thoughts."_

_Illumi sighed, "I believe the expression is a penny, Hisoka."_

_Hisoka allowed a smirk to curve his lips. "Well, I think your thoughts are worth much more than that."_

_Illumi's head turned upward. The sky had taken on a hue of pale grey-lavender and the stars were beginning to fade. It would be dawn in an hour. In the east the sun was already beginning to turn the few wispy clouds peach and orange. His voice and expression were deadpan when he replied, "Killua has a girl."  
_

_"Oh, does he now?" Hisoka purred, his voice light and playful. ____He shuffled his cards again __in the same fluid motion.__ "It's nice to see them growing up before your eyes, isn't it? It makes my heart sing." He inhaled sharply as he selected two cards and laid them down on the floor before his eyes. The queen of hearts and the jack of spades. "Say, is that girl interesting?"  
_

_Illumi shrugged. "It's not about what she is; it's what she has and what she knows," he answered simply, vaguely. "But she still doesn't know Killua's filthiest secret."  
_

_Hisoka __tapped his cards against his chin, behind his smile. He _understood_. He _knew_. "You haven't given up yet," he replied, even more vaguely.  
_

_"It's a family thing, Hisoka," Illumi replied, almost reprimanding. "When someone wronged the family, it's my duty to eradicate the perpetrator." __He crossed his arms, glowering at the scene down the window. "__My brother had drifted for so long. I don't have much time, you know."_

_Time?  
_

_Time for what?  
_

_"Those are not the thoughts Killua's mind possesses right now. They are no longer his current beliefs," Hisoka pointed out. It was true.  
_

_"His mind doesn't possess anything. His current beliefs are what possess his mind right now," Illumi retorted, which was also true.  
_

_Hisoka smirked at this. "Ah, you're planning an exorcism?"  
_

_Illumi didn't answer. He'd rather not uncover secrets he knew he would be able to decipher one way or another. Assassins were trained __not_ to trust anyone but themselves.  


_But Hisoka didn't need any answers. "He'll hate you even more when he finds out the truth. He'll __never_ forgive you."

_Illumi was too quiet…damningly, chillingly quiet…. Knives were hidden under Hisoka's words and cleverly subtle threats. They were itching to launch in mid-air and bury under Illumi's skin. _

_But Illumi's expression allowed no room for emotion. __His career called for ruthlessness, isolation, and profit…but also control. __The life he led was bound by one thing: sacrifice. Death or salvation would ensue._

___"I have all the winning cards. When have my plans_ ever failed?" Illumi responded confidently, a smile was almost perceptible in his voice. 

_Hisoka tilted his head to the side, his fingers caressing and curling around the cards. "You owe him one measly happiness. It's about time he learned to love a little." And then watch it crash and burn._

_Illumi deeply growled, too low for human ears to catch. _

_No. Wrong. The Zaoldyecks didn't function that way. If you sailed towards the unknown, you'd be back on the shore in no time. Alone and eating sand.  
_  
_The Zaoldyecks didn't eat sand._

_They killed by discipline, honor, and loyalty._

_They lived by no bounds and no love._

_They profited by success._

_It was an unbroken tradition passed from generation to generation, Illumi knew that. His mode of life forced him to live in solitude. The tradition and the bloodline could not be broken. The bloodline was more important than anything―more than life itself. The bloodlines had one story about the desire for justice, for truth and faithfulness. It was never an unforgivable story of betrayal._

_It was a cycle they couldn't break, and they shouldn't break._

_Silence soon enveloped the two men as they stared into one another's eyes. Illumi's eyes spoke volumes and speech only came to a close second in his mind. Violet bore into onyx-black for what seemed like an eternity; a battle of wills commenced. Both men were stubborn and prideful, a dangerous combination for emotional destruction._

_On that level, they could understand each other. They could help each other. They could destroy each other…_

_But Illumi had never allowed his own emotions to cloud his judgment. He allowed the darkness to stream forth in a torrent. Unlike his younger brother, who had kept that darkness at bay for many years. Allowed others to control the situation. Allowed others to control him._

_Troublesome, troublesome._

_Yet, in the end, he was the heir for a reason. The beast was only subdued and would soon return to its normal self. And when that happened, he would never remember what recently occurred, what he had done, he would not remember the blood he shed, but he would remember the thrill of finally besting his mentor and creator._

_The suppressed urge to kill would always linger at the back of his mind, sporadically attacking his senses, his self-control. One day, suppressing the maniacal assassin within would become utterly useless. One day, he would just snap without any warning._

_Illumi would live to that day._

_Because _he_ was the mentor. He was the one who had invisible strings of his puppet. He could wave them, move them around, pull them tightly around throats. Cutting those strings wasn't the problem. Seeing them was._

_Suddenly, both men heard footsteps._

_"Ah, one of my winning cards has arrived," Illumi announced proudly. Hisoka only had time to register what was about to take place before there was a third person making his way into the room._

_The empty church echoed even the quietest of his footsteps, forewarning the sacrosanct dwelling of an unwelcome entity in its midst. The third person was a teenage boy. The fog dissipated momentarily to reveal his thickly lashed mossy-green eyes and dark winged brows. A breath of wind fluttered his shoulder-length mane of curly, dark-blue hair. His expression was schooled into impassivity as he twirled the trigger of his gun around his finger._

_"Who's this?" Hisoka wondered with an amused raise of an eyebrow, sizing the boy up in a far too thorough way._

_"Currently, this is my right hand," Illumi introduced, shooting the boy a side glance. His voice was disinterested when he added, "He's a mind reader."_

_A low whistle of amazement escaped the magician.  
_

_"I've done everything you asked me to do," Jei said._

_"I can hardly see that. She's still alive,"__ Illumi retorted wryly, his eyes glued to the battle scene before his eyes. He knew better than to look into a mind reader's eyes.  
_

_"Not for next two minutes."_

_The definite edge in the boy's tone caught Illumi's attention. "Fill me in," he demanded simply. To anyone else, they would have been so confused by the conversation, but Jei knew his meaning very well._

_"Ninety-nine percent she'll die. Eighty-five percent she'll come back to life."_

_"Are you certain?"_

_"Absolutely. She'll wake up in a few days."_

_"When?"_

_"Not sure, but I'll give it six days at most."_

_"That's promising." Illumi stalled, seemingly lost in thought for a second. Then he asked, "And the twins?"_

_"I'll get rid of them right away."_

_"Good. They started to get on my nerves. I had to interfere."_

_"I knew you would. I warned you about them." Jei closed his eyes with a frown of annoyance, hissing under his breath, "They're painfully unprofessional."_

_"You were right."_

_"Naturally."_

_"Don't get a big head," Illumi scolded coolly. "Being conceited never did anything positive for anyone."_

_"I'm sorry." Jei shut his mouth. "Continue."_

_"Where are you supposed to be now?"_

_"Your brother asked me to hide. I only have one minute. I should be going back before he does something stupid."_

_Illumi nodded soberly. "I want them back together as soon as she wakes up."_

_"Consider it done."_

_"That's all," Illumi dismissed, shrugging his shoulders with what tended to be __indifferent finality to indicate the meeting was over._ Jei said nothing more; he knew better than to question or press. He moved quietly to dash out of room, and before he could walk out the door, he heard Illumi's voice: "Remember―"

_Jei stiffened and stopped in his tracks._

_"―I don't have time for mistakes. Don't forget that you and I want the same thing," Illumi cautioned in his slow, listless tone._

_Why was Illumi so worried about time?  
_

_What was so important about the time limit?  
_

_Even the mind reader did not know the answers.  
_

_Jei managed a small, bitter smile, muttering an inaudible "Of course," before he slipped soundlessly out of the room._

_When they were alone again, Hisoka, who had been watching the exchange with interest, turned to Illumi. "I don't understand…" His voice was holding a lazy note just as his damnable smirk did. It was as if he was bored with a stationary life and desired some sort of thrill no matter how short-lived it was. "You want to kill her, but you don't want her to die. What do you have up __your sleeve?"_  


_"Are you in?" Illumi asked.__  
_

_Hisoka shook his head. "You know me; I'm not interested in the eighty percents."  
_

_"But there will be risks." __Illumi sighed and settled grave eyes on his younger brother from the window. "Some extreme risks are going to be required."  
_

_After all, the life of an assassin was all about sacrifice.  
_

___Several gunshots were fired. A flock of black __crows flew rapidly by the window. _  


_____A ______ferocious g______ust of wind intruded the church for a moment,__ rattled all_ the window panes, shook the crosses, and scattered the cards on the floor. On its way back, it pulled the jack of spades violently out of the window, high into the sky.  


* * *

Few minutes later, a knock on the door interrupted our monumentally romantic moment.

"Look, I'm sorry for interrupting―" Jei was saying absently when he stepped inside the room, but halted as he looked at our joined hands. Then he smirked. "Ohhh, I'm really, _really _sorry for interrupting. I mean, the sentimental staring, the touching, the bed―well, it's a hospital bed, but still―how insensitive of me." He quirked an eyebrow at Killua. "Somebody's gonna get some game―"

"_What's up_, Jei?" I said brightly, wanting to change the subject. Shockingly enough, Killua didn't look disgruntled at all. He even smiled a little. It had become easy to get used to Jei's remarks, as long as they were good-natured.

"I came to check on you and to deliver a message. I spoke to Kurapika. He has decided to give you some time for recovery and is expecting to see you in two days."

I bristled, alarmed. "Oh…damn it. Did he sound mad?"

"Nop. He sounded genuinely happy that you're okay." I let out a big sigh, feeling like a weight had been lifted off my chest. "Now that I've done my part, I'll be heading out." Jei shoved his hands in his hoodie's pocket and attempted to leave. But then―

"Wait," Killua called out, startling both Jei and I. He stood off the bed and started across the room, facing Jei, who looked immensely confused. Almost as confused as I was. "Look," Killua spoke, sounding slightly guilty, "I've been unfair to you. You didn't deserve it. I guess it's because I didn't understand you. Or made the effort to." He extended his hand for a handshake. Jei gaped and stared at it like it was a venomous snake. "Maybe we could be friends."

"Really?" Jei and I said in unison. Killua had never made any kind of gestures towards Jei, let alone a nice one. It was completely…unexpected, but it made me smile.

"Yeah."

Jei didn't smile, but happiness evidently lit his eyes. "Why the hell not," he agreed and shook Killua's hand. There was a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth when he said, "Friendship makes everything a lot easier."

* * *

**A/N:** Whatcha thinking? Thoughts, feelings, opinions, theories? Feel like yelling?

Turns out I can't have an updating schedule, but it depends on your generosity. Gimme reviews and I'll update faster. Promise.


	35. Je(Kil) and Hyde

**A/N:** Hello, lovelies. Because you've stuck with me through all the angst, and because it's the story's two years anniversary, _and_ because it's the holiday season, this chapter is literally just a bomb of fluff. No angst, no heavy drama, just fluff fluff fluff.

Special thanks to _KiGaMi99._ There aren't words to describe how amazing she is. She has been supporting this story right from the start. If you have her in your life, you're so lucky—I know I am.

You should all check out _Selin Quinn_'s review for the previous chapter. She's so brilliant and insightful and her words are so real and beautiful.

To all my anonymous reviewers who leave me nice reviews constantly, I can't reply to your questions. I love and thank each one of you.

* * *

_**36. Je(Kil) and Hyde  
**_

"Do you smoke?" my ridiculously young nurse asked.

"No."

"G-good," he stuttered. "Don't start while your chest's healing. I mean, don't start _ever_, but you really shouldn't start now. It's b-bad for healing wounds." He seemed nervous, and sounded even worse. I assumed that was because he was a new nurse, that would explain his age. Or maybe because he was an actor practicing for a role, we got a lot of actors around here. Or maybe it was simply because a Zaoldyeck was glaring a hole in his face.

The nurse mumbled something about checking my vitals and moved to the foot of my bed to pick up my chart. I felt warmth of a body slide very close to mine on the bed. Normally, I'd ask the person to stop invading my personal space, but when I turned to see it was Killua, I was not quite so upset about the invasion.

"Are you thirsty?" he asked.

I turned my head to frown at him. He was acting weird. "Yeah?"

"Wanna drink something?"

"You came up here, sat like that―" I glanced down at the non-existent space between our bodies "―just to ask me if I wanted to drink something?"

He lowered his voice. "Nop, I actually came up here to protect your attention."

"My attention?"

"Oh, yeah. See that guy over there?" he asked, nodding at the jittery nurse who was eyeing us concernedly. "I'm pretty sure he wanted some of your attention and well… we can't have that now, can we?"

I looked at the nurse, probably intimidating him even more. "He's just doing his job. But I appreciate your attempts to make sure I remain attentive—if that's even what I am—kinda chauvinistic though it may be."

"Oh, I'm not very interested in you _remaining_ attentive," Killua clarified.

"No?"

"No. See, I'm getting a little—actually, a _lot_ I'd say—of your attention lately," he said lightly, his mouth curving. "I'm really, really enjoying it. I'm getting kind of possessive about it." I rolled my eyes but broke into goosebumps when his fingers accidentally brushed over mine a little longer than necessary. "So, I'm going to go ahead and suggest that if you're going to give your attention to anyone, you should only give it to me." Just as he was about to stand up again, he said into my ear, "You know I'd know exactly what to do with it."

I stifled a laugh as the nurse walked back to stand in front of me again and said, "Everything's great, Yuki-san. I spoke to your doctor and he said you're free to leave. Actually, you can leave right now if you want."

That pumped me up so much I felt like dancing. "_Really?_"

The nurse smiled at my excitement. "Yes."

I grinned.

I really needed to get out of this hospital. I needed to get home, to a place where I had my own room, where doors locked, and people had to knock before standing near my bed. I needed to get out of this goddamn Versailles of hospital rooms, away from white walls, white ceiling, white floor, and white curtains. I needed to see colors. Better yet, I needed to get out of this paper-dress thing.

Throwing the covers aside, I slid my legs over the side of the bed. The nurse moved quickly with me, courteously leaning over to help me out. Just as his hand caught my elbow, Killua stepped in between us.

"Whoa," he snapped, his back blocking my view. "What do you think you're doing?"

The nurse gulped. "H-helping Yuki-san out."

Killua shot him a warning look. "Why, do I, I don't know, look like a pillar to you?"

"No, sir, absolutely not."

"Do I look physically defective?"

The nurse's shoulders slumped. He looked like he was about to cry.

"Killua, stop―"

"You shush." Killua glared over his shoulder at me, daring me to say more. The effect was striking. "Do I?" he prompted, his eyes of steel back on the nurse.

"N-no, sir."

"Well then _I_'ll be helping her out." Killua pointed at the door. "Shoo."

Watching from behind Killua's shoulder as the nurse fled out of the room like a frightened puppy, I could feel myself going into rambling mode. "Okay, what the hell was that? What now, are we back to the mood swings? This is a hospital, Killua. You can't really _shoo_ people in a hospital, especially not the people who work in a hospital. Besides, there are children coming into the world in this place, and your negative, controlling, domineering, egomaniac aura is not the first thing they should be feeling." Killua's eyes were still not looking at me. I knew that his patience was being tested to the nth degree, but I kept going anyway. "You know today I read my horoscope, and it said, 'The fourth of the next month brings a lover's spat,' and guess what, I think our lover's spat is going to start a little earlier than that―" My mind came to a halt when he finally looked at me, his eyes darkening.

He inched his face close to mine with an alarming narrow-eyed stare that quieted me immediately. "Don't get me jealous," he ordered suddenly, tersely, though it sounded more like a threat. The piercing jade of his eyes stroked me speechless, dumbfounded as he watched my face closely through a stare, not quite a glare, but close enough to make my mouth go dry. "If you do, I'll become a scary version of myself. I'll put all temper tantrums to shame. And then I'll feel petty and stupid for feeling such a way, and then I'll just get pissy about it all, and eventually, I won't like myself very much. So I suggest you take the short cut and avoid this whole mess because it doesn't usually end well. You don't want to push me there, Yuki. Not with this. I don't care how you do it as long as you don't do it." He pulled away slightly. "That's _my_ rule. Consider yourself warned. I don't like to warn twice."

I blinked once, twice, three times. I wanted to sass back at him, but all I could do was nod.

His expression softened. "Good. Now go get ready. I'll be here if you need anything."

* * *

I spent more than an hour in the bathroom.

I was so grateful to Gon who kindly brought me my clothes to the hospital earlier this morning, but probably more grateful knowing that Senritsu had helped him picking out _some_ stuff that weren't necessarily meant to be held by a guy-friend. She was a god-send.

After many minutes of cleaning up and brushing out the tumbleweed that was my bed-hair—a process that included a lot of swearing and complaining about being a female—I finally started to look like myself again. I stripped out of the hospital gown, hoping to never wear or even _see_ one for a very long time. I rolled up the sleeves of my light-blue button-down shirt and tucked it into my denim jean-shorts. The chunky, biker boots exuded just the strength and power that I was craving and gave me a bolder sense of confidence. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, it brightened my spirits to see someone else looking back at me besides the bedraggled, hollow-eyed girl I'd been for nearly a week now.

Then almost magically, the heavy weight of the past few days had dissipated along with my tension. My mind was clear for the first time in ages.

Leaving the small bathroom back to the bedroom, my heart rate kicked up when my gaze riveted to Killua who turned his attention from the floor-to-ceiling window to face me. His own gaze raked me from head to toe and then did a slow pan-up of approval as he took in my changed appearance.

I shrugged my shoulders and managed a smile. "I think I'm ready to be me again."

His features lit with a brilliant, sly smile as he approached me, his stride easy and smooth. "And _I_ think we should get out of here before my girlfriend sees me," he replied huskily in my ear.

I giggled and didn't bother to move away, just wanting to touch any part of him that I could. "I'm glad dying looks good on me. I think I wear it very well," I joked. Killua stilled. His mouth thinned into a grim line and his eyes reflected a wary unease, as if he was out of his element. My heart sank into my stomach. "I'm sorry, that was a terrible joke."

He stared at me intently for a moment, before he took step towards me and suddenly I was surrounded by him, his arms around my waist, his cool cheek pressing against my temple. He was hugging me.

I tentatively wrapped my arms around his back. "I'm sorry," I said once more, feeling guilty about making him feel guilty.

"You don't know what happened to me when you died."

My eyes closed. "I didn't die. I'm not going to die for a very long time."

"Liar," he said, and I felt his smile against my skin. "You did die. You died long enough for my heart to feel it."

I couldn't deny what he said, so I just hugged him a little tighter.

"I'll be back." He pulled away and made a motion to walk away, but I reached out and grabbed his forearm—his very strong forearm, littered with faded scars of thin straight lines, but with soft skin that I could feel where he'd also rolled his shirtcuff.

_Focus_.

"Where are you going?"

"You said you were thirsty, remember? While you finish packing your stuff, I'll get you something. What do you want?" he asked.

I had no idea, so I said, "Surprise me."

He grinned, all warmth and white teeth. "Oh, I will," he said with a wink.

* * *

The second I zipped up my bag, ready to leave the room, someone crashed the door open and stormed in.

I blinked. "Marcus?"

"Yuki." He rushed to me and pulled me into a crushing hug. "I came as soon as I heard. I'm so sorry. I would've been here if I'd known," he said grimly. I hugged him back, guilt gripping my heart. I couldn't help but worry we had somehow drifted from one another, and it was all my fault. "How are you feeling now?" he asked, pulling back to inspect my face. His gray eyes softened with sympathy as he managed a sad smile. "Clearly dying looks good on you. You wear it very well."

That made me smile. I never knew how he could do that. "I'm really sorry, Marcus."

"No, _I'm_ sorry! I was hard on you at the police station and you had every right to dodge my calls! I was a complete _jerk_."

"Umm, I would've gone with _jackass_ but it's okay," I joked, which earned me one of his full-toothed, dimple smiles. "I wasn't dodging your calls. It's just that I hadn't had my phone for a while now."

"What happened?"

I told him the briefest version of what happened with Aimi and her brother, avoiding the gory details and the emotionally disturbing conversations.

"Wow." Marcus whistled when I was done. "I could never tell she was trouble. She always sounded very sane to me. I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"Oh, well." I waved my hand dismissively. "I kind of set myself up for this. I had to suck it up."

"Speaking of trouble." Marcus paused, his gaze darted over my face, searching. "I thought I saw Killua on my way over here. Still having trouble accepting it's over, isn't he?"

_Damn it._

I paused, my mind racing with thoughts like _Do I tell? Not tell? _and especially_ What will he think of me? _Ever since we first met six years ago, Marcus and I remained close, although our contact had always been sporadic. But whenever we talked, we always picked up where we left off. He'd always been a good confidant. He'd stuck with me through all my screw-ups, and most importantly, never judged me. I wasn't accustomed to keeping secrets from him, even though I sometimes wanted to.

"Actually." I grabbed his hand and guided him to the bed. I figured he probably needed to sit for this. "It's not over," I blurted out.

Marcus grew very still. "What?"

I swallowed, wishing I could suck the admission back in. "It's not ove―"

"I heard that," he bit out, fury lacing his quiet words. I scrambled to my feet when he agitatedly rose to his. "Please tell me you're joking, Yuki."

"Marc―"

"Where the hell's your mind? Because as I recall, you managed to keep few little pieces of it but apparently you've lost them all," he sneered.

"Gee, thanks."

"What happened to you? Few days ago, you were fine! I didn't realize Aimi's insanity was contagious!" He glared at me. "Has he threatened you? Is he pushing you into anything?"

"No, he never did anything like that to me. This is not about him."

"Yuki, that guy didn't dump you or cheat on you or walk out on you. That guy _ruined your life_—he ruined your childhood, and you take him back like it's nothing," Marcus seethed. "I thought you were better than this. I never thought you'd throw yourself at him the minute he said he was sorry. Don't you understand?" His voice was barely below a shriek. "Just because someone's nice to you doesn't mean they're nice!"

"And just because someone's done horrible things doesn't mean they're horrible," I retorted. "For once, I'm doing the right thing."

"The right thi―goddammit… _Yuki_. He's a Zaoldyeck! His family are the Zaoldyecks! His parents and his brothers are assassins. They despise people like you. They want everyone like you to die. They think you're a threat and eventually, _he_'ll think you're a threat. He's the next goddamn Lord Zaoldyeck. He's been raised from birth to kill and he's been raised from birth to _lie,_" Marcus spat, his eyes fierce, demanding assent and understanding.

I moved to slide my bag over my shoulder, needing to look anywhere but his eyes. "He's not like them, Marcus."

"The hell he's not! He's _worse._ What you see right now, is not the real him. There was a reason why he was chosen to be the heir, Yuki." Marcus spun me around and gripped my shoulders. "Have you ever thought of that?"

"No, and I'm not going to. He's different. What kind of person am I if I don't give him a chance to prove it?"

"Fine, name _one_ redeeming quality he possesses that makes you think he isn't exactly who I think he is?"

_He's saving me_, I wanted to say, but instead: "It's a feeling, that's all."

"Oh, Yuki." Marcus huffed in frustration. "Please, I can't let you do this. It's like watching you doing a high-wire act over a sea of knives."

I smiled, stroking his tensed arms. "Don't worry about me, okay?"

"You can't admit it wouldn't be risky. Trusting him. It would be a huge risk."

"I know that. But you know me, I always survive when I sail close to the wind."

"Yuki, Killua Zaoldyeck is a _hurricane_."

"Ha!" I grinned. "My, what a large wit you have!"

"All the better to impress you with," Marcus replied grumpily. He sighed and paced the room, one hand on his hip and other running through his light-brown floppy hair. When he turned back to me, his expression was desperate. "Yuki, please―"

I interrupted, "Look, I understand your worry. I know what I'm doing is tricky. A lot of bad stuff happened to me in the past eight years. But they never changed me. They never had the impact I needed. But what happened few days ago…it taught me something. I can't achieve greatness. I can't let the past stop me from living. It doesn't matter what happened eight years ago, and it doesn't matter what happens ten or thirty years from now; what matters is right now. What I am right now and what he is right now. What matters is to do the right thing right now, today, right here, for tomorrow may never come. I want to suck all the poison out of my life, Marcus. I'm done with regrets."

He stared at me for a long minute. "You don't know what it's like to be scared, Yuki. You've always been fearless. When you were ten, you ran off with a man you barely knew and started calling him your master, then you disappeared for two years and came back a hunter. You know your line, but you always cross it because you insist on pushing yourself through limits you've not yet discovered. You've never known what fear is. I guess this is the time where you need to be really afraid."

"That's not true," I told him. "I've never been fearless, Marcus. I just found a way to pretend I am." I exhaled and so did he. "Can you find a way to trust me on this?"

Marcus rolled his eyes. Being a detective, he hated to be the one who was cornered. "I'm gonna try." Then his face hardened. "But it's gotta be worth it, Yuki. Because if he hurts you, I'm gonna have to take a swing at him, and let's face it, he's definitely going to kick my ass."

I laughed really hard at this. When I finally caught my breath, I sighed. "I missed you, you know."

"I missed you, too." He gave me a wry smile. "But there's something you should know―"

Killua demonstrated terrible timing to bring our drinks over. He froze momentarily when he saw Marcus, but then plastered a tight smile on his face and walked over to hand me my drink. He managed to look genuinely okay with this. I, on the other hand, felt like I was on the verge of my two worlds colliding and was about to get crushed in between.

"Marcus," Killua greeted, his tone clipped and controlled.

"What's up, Killua?" Marcus replied, pretending to look pleased to see him.

"Never better." Killua nodded, a faint, triumphant smirk on his face. "Would you like to drink something? They have some decent drinks. Or you can try the food Yuki enjoys, but that's only if you want to live dangerously."

I resisted dropping my face into my palm.

Marcus looked at me and smiled, but there was sadness in his eyes. "Well, she always had a questionable taste. In everything."

_Oh, no._

Something shifted in the air. When I looked back at Killua, he was staring at Marcus, his smile rapidly fading, and suddenly, I thought it was really necessary for Marcus to leave.

As if he sensed the shift in energy, Marcus said, "I've got to get back to work. I'll call you," he promised before he bent down and kissed my cheek, lingering close to my ear as he whispered, "I trust you, but please take care of yourself."

He left, and even though I could hear the birds chirping through the window and the people chattering through the door, all I could focus on was the absolute silence surrounding Killua. He took several mouthful of his cup and stared through glazed and unfocused eyes at the door like he wanted to punch it. His jaw was clenching and releasing.

I saw him take a deep breath and let it out slowly before finally looking at me. "Ready to get out of here?" he asked breezily. He was smiling, but it didn't look real, not at all.

_What you see right now, is not the real him._

I nodded. He took my hand and led me out.

* * *

We'd made our way to the Grandview Hotel, the place where Gon and Killua were staying in before the auction started. They decided to go back to their suite, since the auction was practically over. The doorman greeted us with a grin, tipping his hat and opening the front entrance for us to pass. I thanked him and wished him a good night.

The woman at the crescent-shaped reception desk brightened and blushed when we entered. I briefly wondered why. "Welcome back, Killua-san," she greeted, sounding very bubbly.

I scoffed. _That's why._

Without slowing his stride and with barely a turn of his head, Killua waved his free hand carelessly over his shoulder in her direction. It was either a greeting or a dismissal, but his nonchalant and haughty attitude could clearly tell which one. I let him steer me out to the elevators as I avoided to think about whether or not this was the first time the receptionist had seen him attached to a girl.

The elevator glided smoothly into motion. Killua had declined to tell me what we were doing here no matter how much I asked, saying only that I had to be patient and follow him. I observed my surroundings as a distraction. Everything in this hotel was meticulously designed for the self-respecting multi-millionaires. Marble floors transitioned into hardwood as we made our way out of the elevators and down the hall of the fiftieth floor.

I tugged on Killua's hand to get his attention. "Has anyone famous ever stayed here?"

"Besides me?" His playful grin made me feel like I could follow him anywhere. As we reached the room, he ran his keycard through the slot of the lock. The door opened to the foyer. The chandelier above our heads switched on instantly, decorative pieces tinkling with the swaying motion of the whole ceiling.

The inside was even more impressive than the outside. The suite was on the top floor, similar to a penthouse, decorated in golden and chocolate brown tones. It was warm and sumptuous. There was a lit fireplace along the back wall, beneath a flat screen television. Mirrors made the room look like it went on forever. Two L-shaped couches sat in the middle of the room with a leather-covered coffee table in the center. So many vibrant pictures dotted the walls, lots of colors and shapes created patterns on the canvases. There was also a pole right in the middle of the living room, which I thought was disturbing.

Hardwood floors led to a beautiful, stainless steel kitchen that looked like it hadn't been used so much. Though it wasn't the expensive-looking kitchen that attracted my attention, but what was _on_ the kitchen island.

"Oh, my god?"

I stood frozen in my place as Gon emerged out of nowhere and approached me, his smile wide and welcoming. He gave me a quick, bear-hug and I instantly felt great. Great_er_. It was involuntary to find yourself drawing near Gon and feeling better in his presence. He carried this carefree aura around him that could never go unnoticed.

"What's going on?" I asked as he released me.

"It's a slightly belated birthday surprise," Gon responded. He led me into the kitchen island to where he'd set a chocolate cake along with different types of dinner dishes.

My eyes glazed over to Killua in distraction. Puzzled, I told him, "I thought we had celebrated my birthday." His returning smile was ever so salacious, and his mischievous eyes were lost in a haze, reminding me of _how_ exactly we had celebrated my birthday.

A blush crept up into my cheeks.

"Spending a night with Killua is not celebrating," Gon argued.

Killua nodded. "You're right. We barely did any celebrating." He smirked and looked more like what he actually was: the smuggest bastard on the planet.

I narrowed my eyes at him before I looked back at my nervous-looking, secret-keeping, surprise birthday-throwing friend. "You made dinner for me?" I asked, feeling totally flummoxed.

Gon nodded, grinning. "Yup. Not everything, though. I pre-ordered the cake. You like it?"

"You made dinner for me," I repeated dumbly, my incredulity building.

Gon raised his eyebrows, which made them more arched than normal, and nodded again, as if to say, 'yeah, that's just what I said.'

"You made dinner―"

Killua piped in with an exasperated sigh. "What part of 'Gon made dinner for you' don't you understand?"

"The part where Gon made dinner for me."

Gon looked worried. "You don't like it?"

"I―" I'd gone blank, totally forgotten how to speak. The shock incapacitated me. It'd been years since someone made dinner for me. Hell, it'd been years since someone made _something_ for me. Pleasant surprises and heartwarming gestures weren't stuff that usually existed in my world. On top of taking my place and doing my job in the auction building, Gon had made dinner and _pre-ordered_ delicious dessert just for me. To make me happy. I clamped a hand over my mouth as a very unfamiliar feeling hit my guts and stung my eyes.

"Oh, no, no, no." I heard Gon gasp. "Yuki, are you going to cry?" He pulled me into his arms and hugged me again. "Please don't cry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't ask you first. Do you not like chocolate cakes?"

His words tortured me even more.

"That's impossible. She doesn't cry," Killua said incredulously. He was right. My eyes were red, a glassy sheen covering them. Some tears did well up in my eyes, just not enough to make me cry. If I could cry, I'd be pathetically bawling right now.

"Dammit, Gon," Killua continued. "I told you to never cook unsupervised."

"How was I supposed to know this would happen?" Gon whispered back, still stroking my hair.

I laughed into his shirt, my mind clicking back to focus. Pulling away, I looked through watery eyes at my very freaked-out friend and said, "I love it. I love the dinner. I love the cake. I love _you_. Thank you."

He grinned. "Really?"

"Yes!" I couldn't believe he doubted that. "Of course, you idiot!" I said, wrapping my arms around him one last time, gratitude filling my heart. From behind us, we heard Killua muttering what sounded like, 'Wow, so much hugging today,' but we chose to ignore him.

Gon handed me an empty plate. "I cooked almost everything without any help," he bragged.

"Are you saying she should run?"

"I can follow a recipe, Killua," Gon replied with forced kindness.

"Yup, you should run," Killua said woodenly, looking at me.

Gon ignored him. "Try this first," he told me, pointing at a plate of spaghetti and meatballs.

"I wasn't aware you hated her that much."

"I'm talking to Yuki, Killua, not you."

I laughed, filling my plate with everything my hand could reach.

"You're a brave woman. I'm sure you'll be missed," Killua muttered.

"You can't kill somebody with stew!"

"I'm sure you'll find a way, Gon."

"Shut up, Killua."

* * *

"How's your mouth?"

"It has almost stopped burning," I answered, touching my fingers to my tingling lips.

Dinner had been excellent. All except this one recipe Gon used called for dried chili flakes, but didn't give an exact amount. One mouthful of the dish and my eyes were watering. Someone had to explain to Gon that just because the chili flakes were dried didn't mean they didn't pack a punch. Once we mixed in a huge amount of sour cream, it became edible. Overall, I still loved the dinner, even if it made me consider sticking my head in the sink to make the burning stop.

"I did warn you," Killua said, dropping the dirty dishes by the sink.

"Is that a subtle version of _I told you so_?" I asked as I turned on the faucet and rinsed a plate off.

He smirked. "Do I look like someone who needs to be subtle?"

I snorted. "Definitely not." I stopped what I was doing and shut off the faucet. "So…I gotta leave now."

"What?" Killua was no longer smiling. "It's almost midnight. Why don't you spend the night here?"

I couldn't even be bothered to pretend I was not absolutely smitten. But still: "I can't. I should probably go check on everything in the auction. Do some catching up. It's the end of this month and I should start packing my stuff, too."

"Oh." He pouted, nodding. "Alright," he said. I pouted, too. "What?"

"Nothing…but you could always insist, you know."

Killua tilted his head down and smiled. Even if I couldn't see it, his smile was as infectious as his playfulness. "Fine, let's do that again." Adopting a straight face and the most casual tone he could muster, he said again, "Why don't you spend the night here?"

I grinned widely, but played along. "I can't. I should probably go check—"

"You _are_ staying here for tonight. Deal with it."

I rolled my eyes with a smile. "Okay, if you insist."

Gon walked out of the bathroom. He stepped further into the kitchen and came around to deposit more dishes on the counter. He and Killua started an argument on who should clean this mess up. One would expect each of them to throw the chores on one another, while in fact, they argued on who wanted to do the chores more than the other. I was too busy rolling my eyes at these boys; one second, they were giving each other shit, the next they were sacrificing their comfort for each other. I'd never understand guys.

After a considerably long time, the winner was chosen.

"But you need sleep as much as I do. If not more," Gon said, scowling.

"We talked about this. You make dinner, I do the rest, and vice versa. You're going to sleep first, and that's final."

When Killua said, "…and that's final," it was usually final.

Gon said nothing. When he hugged me good night, he rubbed my back and squeezed me a little too tightly. Even the smile he gave me before he went to his room was strange. I couldn't help but feel he was thanking me for something.

"Wow, that was nice. What you did," I said when Killua and I were alone.

Killua shrugged, his gaze on Gon's bedroom door. His eyes looked troubled. "Nah, 'twas only fair. He always puts up with me on a daily basis, no matter what. He's so much older than he seems. Sometimes he makes me feel like a little kid trying to get the approval of an adult. Even when I say something that's not funny, he'll crack. He should give himself a break from me every now and then."

I smiled, re-conjuring the face of Gon when he told me something very similar to that. '_It's like whenever I hear something funny, I look around to see if he thinks it's funny or not.' _Both boys treasured each other's friendship more than anything, but Killua was rather fond of laying guilt-trips on himself. I wanted to tell him that Gon never minded putting up with him, but I doubt he'd have believed me.

So I settled with changing the thread of the conversation.

"You're a softie, you know."

Killua smiled slyly. "Oh, but Yuki," he said, turning to face me. He took my hand and placed it high on his abdomen. "I think you know just how hard I am." Suddenly, his face scrunched up. "That didn't sound right."

I laughed, "You think?"

"I didn't realize that was going to be dirty until I said it," he said, grinning.

I chuckled and tried to pull my hand back, but he didn't let go. He arched his eyebrow at me, and I feigned a look of exasperation, but all I was thinking was that I could actually feel the very _hard_ ridges of muscle through his shirt. I tried to tug my hand away, but he held it there.

"What are you doing, Killua?" I asked, smiling just as wide as he was.

"I have no idea," he said. His eyes were twinkling with mirth. "But it feels really good."

He looked very tall right now—or logically, always, but I noticed it even more right now as he looked down at me. It made me feel feminine and… pretty, things I wasn't normally interested in feeling before I met him.

We stood there for a few more moments, smiling like idiots at each other. When he finally let go of my hand, it took me a few seconds to pull it away.

"Show me my room?"

"Ah, yes. It's the one down the hallway. Follow me," he said. We walked further into the suite. This place was amazingly open, with floor to ceiling windows that offered beautiful views of the city's skyline. Killua led me through a darkened doorway, not bothering to flip on the light as we kept walking.

We finally stopped at a doorway.

"And―" Killua opened the door. "This is my room. Where all the fun stuff happens," he joked. His smirk instantly faded when he saw the steely eyebrow-raised look on my face. "And by 'fun stuff' I mean _nothing_."

"Sure." I continued walking, then said over my shoulder, "Please tell you've never―"

"I don't sleep with girls in a hotel suite I share with my bestfriend, Yuki; it's a dick move," he said, answering my question before I finished asking it.

"I was actually going to say: tell me you've never used the pole in the living room for anything more than just looking at it, but I'm happy to hear about the girls thing."

His brow furrowed, then he snickered and shook his head. "You're so weird sometimes."

"Takes one to know one."

He looked amused. "You were a lot nicer to me on your first, actual birthday. Of course, that time, I'd given you nice kisses. This time, it's just a cake and Gon's homemade dinner."

I huffed. "I'll always be in Gon's debt because of that delicious dinner. It was almost better than the kisses." He poked my side as we stepped into my bedroom, making me jump. "What, I said _almost_."

The bed in my bedroom was huge. Considering I was used to lumpy singles, this looked like luxury. I flopped back, testing the softness and bouncability of the mattress, and it was only when I looked back at the doorway that I realized Killua was staring. _Whoa_, I thought, confused and bewildered. One minute he was cracking up suggestive jokes, and the next he was standing nervously by my bedroom door.

"Bathroom's right there," he said, his expression anxious, and never before had bathroom directions been so intense. "If you want to take a shower."

_Oh, a shower._ It had been a wild week filled with so many unexpected events and eye-opening confessions. I was tired and overwhelmed. A hot shower was exactly what I needed.

There was just one problem.

"I don't have extra clothes with me."

Killua scowled. I was making him more uncomfortable as one of his hands rubbed the back of his neck. "We could find you something to wear."

"_We?_"

"Uh, yes. I think Gon has something. He has these horrible girly boxer shorts that can hurt your eyes by just looking at them. But, uh, they'll fit you."

I stood up from the bed and met him by the door. "Do you not want me to wear _your_ clothes?"

He shivered.

"I don't mind that." He tried to play it cool, but I could tell his anxiety was rising as he stared down at me. "Gon's shorts are _really_ girly, though. You'd do me a favor if you wore them tonight and burned them tomorrow. They make me want to poke my eyes out."

Without thinking, I blurted, "But they're such pretty eyes."

Killua swallowed hard, freezing in place.

I smirked. Watching him fluster was worth the tongue-slip. I stepped forward and unnecessarily fixed the turtleneck of his t-shirt. I felt him tense, and I didn't know why I liked pushing him out of his comfort zone so much, but I totally did. It was becoming one of my all-time favorite things to do.

He hadn't moved yet, and neither had I, but I could feel his eyes on me, heavy and intense.

"I was so jealous of Marcus today," he deadpanned.

That certainly came out of nowhere. He'd always been so brazen, but never like this. When I looked at his face, his lips were squeezed together and he looked rather serious. "You were?"

"Yes. He could be a problem for me."

"What?" I let out a little laugh, but it came out more like I was choking. "You know you had nothing to be jealous of."

He blinked, but didn't lose his intensity. "He had his goddamn hands on you. I had everything to be jealous of."

I stared at him in disbelief, all the while internally saying _stay cool, Yuki_. I didn't like how weighty this conversation had become. "But you threw no scary temper tantrums."

"No, but I wanted to break his arm in three places," he grumbled annoyingly.

I winced, because he really wasn't joking.

He noticed, and broke eye contact. "I'd never hurt him," he said defensively. "Old-me would. But that doesn't mean new-me doesn't think about it."

I punched his chest, which was as effectual as hitting an iron wall. "You're definitely _not_ going to think about it anymore. He's like a brother to me. Don't act like a nut job, please."

He was quiet for a moment. The tension had changed, so had his eyes. His cocky suggestiveness was gone, but this time, that wasn't because of his mood swings or his capricious nature. There was something hard about him, impenetrable. No matter how new and improved he was, there was still something closed off and toxic. Like a succulent fruit, frozen solid and strong, but only from the outside. The systematically destroyed little boy was still buried inside, and his occasional short visits worried me.

He said nothing more, but went back to staring. His eyes were roaming over face, but the heat in them was spreading all over my skin like a fever. "I'll get you the shorts," he said and stepped away, out of that little circle of warm space our bodies had created.

Muttering under my breath, I went into the bathroom. There was a deep soaking tub and a separate rain shower. The little kid in me thought the integrated television in the mirror was kind of cool. I put on one of the satellite radio channels and hopped in the shower. I lathered up and rinsed myself off, knowing it wouldn't be long before I smelled like troubles again.

After an hour or so, I was putting on a white tank top that had already been packed in my bag and slipping the shorts/boxers on. They were stretchy and had bubblegum pink with purple cupcakes and red hearts. Killua was right. They were painfully hideous, and _way_ too girly, even for me. Gon would probably pull them off much better than me.

As I made my way out into the living room, I saw Killua on a couch poking his fork into the leftovers of the cake. He also looked showered, fresh, and alert. When he saw me, he gave me a funny look.

"Um, you look―"

"I look ridiculous," I finished for him.

"No, no," he said placatingly. "Not ridiculous, but, umm…"

"Ridiculous."

"Yeah, you do," he admitted with a sigh, looking both guilty and humored at the same time. "I thought they'd look good on you, but they look horrible on everybody."

"They're pink and purple _male_ boxers with a flowery sprinkle things on them." We both cringed. "Of course they look horrible."

Killua smiled, the whiteness of his teeth startling against his shower-flushed cheeks. "But I think pink might be your color. You seem to wear it very often, on your face at least."

I couldn't help but smile. "Ha ha. Shut up."

We lapsed into a comfortable silence. For once, in years maybe, my mind wasn't going mile-a-minute. I was enjoying what turned out to be a good day. _Normal_ day. I put my hands inside the boxers small back-pockets, or just the three fingers that could fit there, and contemplated whether I should sit next to him on the couch or not. I knew he needed to sleep, but I didn't want this night to end.

I was just about to move over to him when he said, "I think you should go to your room."

"Oh," I said, sounding more disappointed than I wanted to. "I should let you sleep―"

"It's not that." Resting his elbows on his knees, he covered his eyes with the heels of his palms and said, "It's just the idea of you wearing…" He exhaled. "I know I said those boxers look horrible, but… I'm still a guy. I have impulse control issues and I'm biologically driven to do stupid things. So I really think you should go back to your room. Right now."

I smiled at his sincerity and his rambling. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then." He nodded, not looking at me, and I really couldn't help but tease him after all the times he'd teased me. I made a turn to the bedroom's direction, then stopped abruptly. "Hold on, should I give you a hug or a kiss goodnight?"

"Neither," he answered quickly, his face still covered. "A boring 'goodnight' will suffice."

I turned fully around and gave him my best innocent face, all bedroom eyes and pouty mouth. "But I thought you said you didn't do bored."

"_Yuki_," he warned.

I laughed. "I'm sorry. I'll go now. I should give you some." I paused for few relatively long seconds before adding, "Privacy."

He groaned. "I hate you."

Very slowly, I stepped back inside hallway, but kept the hallway door half-shut. Holding the knob and leaning against the door frame, I looked down at the boxers again, picking at the thin cotton fabric. "Tell you what, I think I'm keeping these to myself after all. They might not be comfy on the eyes, but they're certainly very… _comfy, _if you know what I mean. Unlike some…."

"_Good night_, Yuki," Killua said sharply, but I could clearly see his faint smile. Without looking at me, he added, "Now shut that door. For both our sakes."

"G'night, Killua." I smiled and closed the door.

Even through the wood, I could hear his sigh of relief.

I might not be as good at it as him, but in the face of his newly-discovered and relentless charm, I had to fight back as much as I could. I had no doubt he was going to get back at me in the morning, and it didn't matter. It didn't matter at all. That kind of revenge, I was okay with.

* * *

The next morning, my phone alarm buzzer roused me around six am. As I opened my eyes, the light pierced my skull, and I recognized the unfamiliar but not unknown sight of my new room. My brain was fuzzy. Filled with jumbled words that rhymed with _toss_, _cross_, _albatross_, _floss_… _boss_. _Boss!_ That one made me jump out of bed with a jolt back to reality. Kurapika wanted to see me tonight. I hurriedly located my clothes and slipped them on as silently as I could. I needed to leave the suite undetected. It was way too early for the boys to be awake now.

I was doing my hair when I got a text from ever-so-energetic Marcus._  
_

_How's your assassin boyfriend? Do you have any bruises? Scratches? How bad are they?_

I scoffed and texted back, _Shut_ _up_. _I'm_ _fine_. Perfect, actually, but Marcus didn't need to know that.

Marcus replied,_ Weird. Has he mellowed out?_ Two seconds later, my phone pinged again._ Is he less fiesty than before?_

I rolled my eyes and wrote back, _Don't count on it_.

_You sound a lot like the Magic 8-Ball I used to have._

I smiled. But I was irritated enough to type, _If you don't drop this, that won't be the only ball you used to have._

Marcus stopped texting.

Holding my boots in my hand, I sneaked out of my bedroom, freezing still until I was sure no one was waking up. My socked feet slid soundlessly across the hardwood floor. I resumed my inchworm-like walk down the hallway and towards the end of the suite, my eyes darting from side to side to ensure I was making no sound. Judging by the volume of Gon's snores, I was pretty sure I could escape safely.

While I was putting my boots on by the doorway, I heard a deep voice coming from behind me:

"Not so fast."

It was only after I had turned around I realized I was not alone after all.

"Fuck!" I squealed and stumbled three feet backwards and held my hand over my chest when I saw Killua standing by the barstool. "Goddammit! You scared the bejeezus out of me!"

He looked just as floored by my reaction as I was by his presence. "Are you kidding me? Your squeal almost made my head explode."

"_Your_ head?" I cried, my body shaking with a sudden burst of adrenaline. "You nearly made me pee my pants!"

Killua stared at me for a second, blinking, before his face cracked into a smile and he started to laugh.

"It's not funny! When did you walk in here? Two seconds ago, you were in bed!" I shoved my hair back from my forehead as I mourned my lost focus and relative peace. "Dammit."

"Why the rush anyway?" he asked when his laughter died. "Where ya going, White Rabbit?" His eyes darted to me challengingly.

"Umm… I was…" I spluttered, eyes wide.

"Sneaking out." He sauntered lazily toward me, hands buried in his pockets.

I grinned, slightly offended by the accurate accusation. "I wasn't sneaking out!"

"Sure. Just putting on your shoes very quietly. And tiptoeing across the floor." His lips curved into a crooked smile, and he resumed his journey toward me. "So you're sneaking out on me after spending the night at my place. Do you know what that makes me?" My grin slowly faded as he moved closer. When he was right in front of me, he rested his forearm on the wall over my head, our bodies almost touching. "You could have followed the common protocol and left some money on the nightstand. That could have made me feel a little bit better," he said with an amused air.

My face heated. "I didn't want to disturb you guys."

"Hmm."

"I'll be late. My boss is expecting me." My voice came out in a whisper as I watched his fingers glide along the back of my palm and up my wrist. I sneaked a glance at his face and found him intently watching his fingers on my skin.

"You're not shuddering," he pointed out, unexpectedly.

My eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"You used to shudder whenever I came near you or touched you. Like you were… revolted, or something. It drove me insane."

He was right. I remembered exactly how I shuddered, how confused and conflicted I used to be. Talking about that wasn't something I was ready to do, or think about. I didn't know how to indicate that I was more than all right with him touching me now, so I settled for holding his hand. "I wasn't revolted, just afraid of what I thought you were."

"I'm not him any more. Never will be again. You should know that." I don't think I'd ever seen him looking so serious. He looked so honest, his face so beautifully sincere that I wondered how I ever hated him, or at least convinced myself that I did.

I smiled up at him. "_You_ should know that _I_ know that. I know you're not that person anymore. I won't let you be anyway." I needed him to smile, too, so I prodded him in the stomach, lightly running my fingers over a spot on the side of his waist, just below his ribs, where only I knew how extremely ticklish he was.

He gasped and said, "Stop it," slapping my hand away before he twined our fingers together. "You won't let me? How're you going to do that?"

"Let me worry about that when I come back. Now I'm running late." I tried to slip from under his arm, but he gripped my shoulder roughly and forced me back on the wall, keeping me from moving anywhere.

I raised my eyebrow at him.

He played with the hem of my collar and answered my unspoken question. "You forgot our deal. I helped you get your stupid necklace back. You owe me a kiss."

"Wow," I said with mock astonishment, pretending to glance at my watch-less wrist. "I can't believe it took you that long to bring this up and throw it in my face. Almost three days. I'm impressed."

He turned his head and brushed his nose along mine, making me laugh. "Is that a yes?"

I laughed again.

He frowned. "Is that a no?"

My smile grew, and as an answer, I tilted my head for him. Whether or not I was ready for everything, I was definitely ready to kiss him right now.

My heart started pounding—he could easily feel it since he was pressed up against me, and the corners of his lips turned up when I involuntarily licked mine. I watched as his face leaned closer, and I couldn't move, couldn't blink, couldn't breathe in fear that I'd somehow disturb the moment.

Then, so close to my lips that I could feel the air move as he spoke, he said, "You know what, I don't think you can kiss me right now."

I scowled, partly because of the deliberate interruption, but mostly because I hated to be told I couldn't do something. "Why not?"

His arrogant smile said he knew exactly what he was doing to me. I could tell by the way his eyes glinted wickedly that he also knew his next words would earn him one of my blushes or a hard smack to the face, or perhaps both. He braced himself for the equally strong effect either would have on him, and said, "Because you're running late, and I know that if you kiss me, you won't be able to stop."

My face did color in the few moments after I comprehended his meaning, painting me like a clown. He arched an amused eyebrow when instead of shying away, I met his gaze head on. "Bullshit," I said, surprised to hear the hoarseness in my own voice. I cleared my throat. "I can kiss you and stop whenever I want."

"Maybe," he said, unfurling that irresistibly sunny smile of his. "Though I don't advise you to try…" He tilted his head slightly to look at me before saying, words slightly slurred due to the smugness of his smirk, "'Cause let's be honest, you also have self-control issues. Last time, on your rooftop, I had to practically push you back."

My face felt so hot, I thought it would melt away, and if my heart could beat any faster, I'd probably had cardiac arrest. My eyes slowly started to close. He knew the effect of his words and he enjoyed taunting me to waver.

A few moments of silence crept between us before I spoke.

"Don't you ever get sick of…" I trailed off as I searched for the right words.

"Being all powerful? Rocking these pants? Looking so unfairly handsome all the time?" Killua supplied, lightening the uncomfortable mood.

"No," I replied, trying not to smile. I was surprised his head hadn't actually exploded just from how smug he was. "Don't you ever get sick of being yourself?"

I saw a flash of his roguish grin before nuzzled my cheek and said, "Where's the fun in that?"

"You're getting back at me for last night."

He laughed. "No, I'm not. This is not revenge; this is a legitimate retribution. You tested my resolve, and I'm plainly doing the same. Do you think you're capable of controlling yourself?"

"Your arrogance right now is making it quite easy," I muttered. _Lie_.

"Should we can make it interesting?"

"What, like a challenge?"

"Why not."

Motivated by his words, I tested my limits. Pushing roughly at his chest, I urged him to look at me. My eyes were between his lips and his intense gaze. He was completely motionless when I reached out to place my hand on the side of his face and slowly ran my thumb down the straight bone of his nose, my eyes following my finger till it came to stop at the Cupid's bow of his upper lip.

I brought my face closer, moving my thumb to rest at the left corner of his lips. Closer and closer I came, until I was so near I couldn't focus on his face anymore, only parts of it, like the way his lashes stood dark against his light skin when he blinked, and the smooth angle of his cheekbones, and the incurvate space underneath his lips and above his slightly jutting chin. I closed my eyes and felt him instead, his breath washing over my face, the ends of the bangs on his forehead tickling my eyebrows, the warmth of his body, so much closer to me than anyone had ever been before.

In no time, I got so immersed, so intoxicated by the very proximity of him that I was at the verge of sinking away and forgetting everything other than him.

I loved the fire and fight he incited in me, but I couldn't let them consume me.

_Not now._

I tilted my head to rest my forehead on his, sliding my face to the left slightly, so that the entire length of our noses and width of our brows were touching. When he closed his eyes, his lashes tickled me and every breath I took in was from the previous one he'd let out.

"Yeah. I'm running late," I said.

I could feel his self-satisfied smirk. "I told you so…" he reminded, knowing that I wasn't really talking about my lateness. I pulled away and missed his skin immediately.

"Well, I hate to say you're right…" I began.

"But…"

"But nothing. I hate to say you're right. So I'm not going to," I insisted. "But that was a tough challenge."

His eyes lit up. "Yeah. I'm surprised you were able to last this much. Am I _that_ good? Ow!" he exclaimed when I pinched him, hard. He pressed his fingertips to his stomach, testing the more damage I had done to his skin. "Little beastie," he muttered. "You're just begging for me to press you up against that wall again and teach you a lesson, aren't you?"

Before he had finished pawing at his wounds, I pushed him fully off me and stuck my hand right into his pants pocket.

"Ack! Wha―" he shrieked, his eyes springing wide open. "What are you doing? Don't violate me!" He rolled his eyes, but didn't let the smirk he wore slip off his face. "Ahh jeez. Women. Give 'em the moon and they want the sun."

"Shut up. I'm looking for your keycard. I'm not going to knock or wait for you to let me in when I come back."

"You're trying to steal the key to my place already? Pretty sure that's not how healthy relationships work―hey!" He grabbed my relentless hand and pulled it out of his pocket. "It's in my back pocket," he pointed out. I let out a long sigh before I moved behind him to search in his back pockets. It wasn't easy since his pants were a little tight and…yeah. "What's taking you so long? Are you trying to give me a pat down?"

I pulled the keycard out and punched his arm. Killua turned around, glaring at me and rubbing his skin. "Ouch," he said before he cracked one of his narrow, irritating smiles. "I can't say I didn't expect that one though―I get hit by women more often than you'd think possible."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "A pat down? Really, Killua?"

He gleefully replied, "You're the patter, Yuki."

Walking to the door, I gave a little sighing laugh. "You're so crass."

"Oh I love when you talk dirty to me."

I threw my arms in the air in frustration. "Now I'm _really_ leaving."

As I opened the door and pulled on my jacket, he called loudly from behind me, "Okay, bye, Yuki. Thanks for the mammaries."

I wanted to say goodbye to him with one very expressive finger, but I figured that would only provoke his nasty verbal talent. I was laughing when I turned around, arm raised, ready to smack that shit-eating grin off his face. He caught my wrist halfway to his face, without even moving, and brought my hand to his mouth, giving it a feather-light kiss.

"Go out with me."

I frowned. "I thought I already do."

"No, I want to take you out on a real date. Just us. I want this time to be right."

The words were said so casually it took me a second to process what he'd meant. "Seriously?"

"No, silly Yuki, I bring teenage girls to my hotel suite and hold them hostage by doorways so that I could ask them amusing questions for my own entertainment." He shot me a dirty look. "Of course I'm serious."

"Oh." I shrugged. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

His face morphed between so many emotions that I couldn't keep track. Finally, it settled on joy. Absolute and complete joy. And he was more beautiful than anything I'd ever seen.

"Hey, Yuki," he called when I was a few feet away from him. I turned back to see he'd got a different kind of smile now. His hands were shoved in his pockets and he was leaning against the door frame—his body language was a strange mix of ease and anticipation as he said, "Tonight."

I wanted to quit my job right now and join some doo-wop group because of the way I was going to be singing that one word in my head. But I managed to control myself, just smiling back and saying, "Tonight."

"I'll make it worth the wait." His voice gave me goosebumps and stomach flips.

I walked backwards to the elevators, an uncontrollable grin spreading across my face. "I should go. I'll see you. Tonight."

His smile was uncharacteristically soft. "You should know I'm not just going to stop at seeing."

"I'm holding you to that."

* * *

**A/N: **He's kind of adorable, right? In a very irritating way.

According to my beta, that was a 'sweet' ending. You know what would make it sweeter? Reviews. So yes, review, review, review, a thousand times review. (Well, don't review a thousand times, just once will do. You know what I mean.) You could tell me anything.

Next update, Valentine's day? Do you want it sooner? It's already pre-written and ready to go, so it's up to you. Tell me in a review.


	36. Asshole

**A/N:** Hi guys! I came back on this dreadful day just as I promised, with even juicier fluffiness. Or maybe fluffy juiciness. I don't know, you pick. (And a _tiny _bit of angst for those who enjoy it.) Won't waste your time with my blathering, so go get every high-calorie, sugary, carby food you have in the house—that's an order!—and start reading.

* * *

_**37. Asshole  
**_

Kurapika turned in his gargantuan desk chair to face me, his face alarmingly impassive. "So tell me, Yuki," he began seriously.

_Uh-oh_. I looked back at him with the face of faux-innocence I defaulted to whenever I knew I was in trouble. "Yes?"

"Did you rest well? What did you do in the past two days?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking…" I drummed my fingers along my jawline, pretending to contemplate his question for a minute longer before my eyes lit up. "Ohh, I know this one: I missed you dearly."

"Yuki—"

"I missed you _intolerably_?"

"Yuki, you skipped one week of the auction. Do you know how badly that affects your evaluation?"

"As bad as your hair? Which is pretty damn good?"

"Try again," he said wryly. Then he sighed. "Because of your obstinacy and momentary indiscretion, you've denied yourself a good evaluation. I'm sorry about what happened to you, but you needed to attend the last week to show the boss that you're an upstanding, responsible bodyguard, dedicated to using your great abilities for his daughter's benefits—for her own good, not yours."

I stared blankly back at him. "Wasn't that a line from Batman?"

"Yuki—"

I carried on, talking to myself. "Or was it Spiderman? No, no. Wait. That was 'with great power comes great responsibility.'"

"_Yuki_—"

"Why so serious, Kurapika?"

Kurapika rubbed his temple in frustration. "Here's your evaluation."

That shut me up. I reached over to accept the tablet computer from his hand and scrolled down to the bottom of the page. My eyes widened with horror as I leaped to my feet, bristling. "Are you kidding me? You gave me a _D_? Seriously? You think you can give me a D just because I ran away and almost got myself killed and skipped the last days of—okay, you can totally give me a D. But I can't accept it. My master would make fun of me. He'd literally laugh _in_ my face. This makes me look like an idiot. A stupid idiot. Borderline brain-dead _moron._ Is there any way you can change it? What can I do to get a B—at least? Extra credit and all that shit?"

Kurapika, who'd been staring wide-eyed at me all this time, blinked and cleared his throat. "There is a way. I think."

"What is it? Anything. I'll do anything—"

"Well, Neon-san needs—"

"—except for _that_."

He shot me his most intimidating look and I shrunk, just a tiny bit. "You're in no position to be picky, Yuki. Neon-san will be in town for another month until Nostrad-san gets back from his trip to pick her up. During this month, she will need a security team, which I've already hired before the beginning of the underground auction. You can join them. It's your last opportunity. If she survives this month with no scratches or broken bones, you get the evaluation you want."

I fell back on my chair and leaned backward, massaging the bridge of my nose. "Guess she's the lesser of two evils."

After we'd spent the entire morning and afternoon discussing what would be my new job for the next four weeks, Kurapika hit a button on his laptop and the printer on the other side of the room started spitting out pages. He organized them in a file before he handed it to me. The pages contained the personal profiles of the police officers that I'd be in charge for, which only added to the inconvenience of this whole arrangement. I didn't feel so good about bossing around men who were at least twice my size. It didn't make sense. Three years ago, I wouldn't be able to boss my uncle's dog to walk. How was I going to be in charge for ten, bulky men? I'd probably send them to strip clubs or give them money to buy doughnuts.

I grimaced. "How many people does it take to protect a little girl?"

"Twenty-one is hardly considered _little_, Yuki."

"Well, she _has_ stopped aging at ten," I grumbled under my breath. Kurapika gave me a scathing look, and I held my palms up in surrender. "Sorry. Shutting up now."

"All right. That's all."

I shrugged. "You're stuck with me for another month, I'm afraid."

"It's what I'm afraid of, too." He frowned. "Don't mess this up. You've just signed a contract. Jail is exactly where they'll put you if you stop attending."

I flashed him a winsome smile. "Pssh. Like metal bars could keep me away from you, Kurapika."

Kurapika raised an eyebrow.

"Too cheesy?" I asked.

He raised it a little higher.

"Too cheesy," I agreed. I took an unnecessary breath and exhaled it in a rush. "It's alright. I'll try to woo you again later."

Kurapika's frown deepened suspiciously. "You're in an awfully good mood today."

I let out an exaggerated happy sigh. "Why shouldn't I be? I have a great life. Great friends. Great boyfriend—" I smirked at him. "Great boss, who's so otherworldly handsome and—"

"If you want to suck up to me, Yuki, just clean my office," Kurapika cut off, unfazed by my relentless flattery. "Or keep the boss alive."

I stood and straightened my shirt, heading towards the door. The doorknob rattled before my hand could reach it, and I was faced with a familiar tall figure.

"Leorio!"

"Yuki!" he said and we fist-bumped before he gave me a brief hug. Then he and Kurapika did their own version of a hug, made oh-so masculine by handshakes and slaps on the back. Leorio was a great man. He made us smile and was always in a good mood. I liked his big grins and silly jokes. I liked how dedicated he was to checking up on Kurapika whenever the chance presented itself, and maybe even when it didn't. I liked how much he cared about all of us like a big brother. Being around him was a mood-lifter.

I eyed his sun-kissed skin appreciatively. "How was the honeymoon? You look fabulous!"

"I _feel_ fabulous." He smiled and stood next to me, his long arm around my shoulders. "What about you? How's life treating you?"

"I'm good. Your friends are driving me crazy, though."

Leorio smirked good-naturedly at Kurapika and me. "Can't blame them. They're clearly being what I raised them to be: gigantic pains in the ass."

I laughed and excused myself to leave. Leorio nobly offered to walk me outside, and as we walked down the hallway with his arm still around my shoulders, he sighed so wistfully that I had to ask him what was wrong.

"Stupid friends," he muttered. I looked at him questionably. "That's right. I said it. Stupid friends being great people and making sure I love them too much to stop caring, with their stupid, happy puppy-faces that I can't help but see everyday, and their stupid, kind hearts that I can't help but admire, and their stupid, rare, bright smiles that I can't help but work to keep. These freaking friends are ruining my life!"

I smiled because I immediately knew which one of those was Killua.

Leorio ended his words dramatically but with such a good-natured grin that I was suddenly seized with the urge to tell him that the one of his stupid friends was ruining my life too, albeit in different, rather wonderful ways.

Instead I said, "They do get under your skin."

"And very quickly." He burst into a mega-watt smile before he looked at me. "Speaking of which, a little birdie told me you might be maybe possibly sort of kind of back together with a certain friend of mine?"

"Ah, yes. Someone finally knew what they want."

"Et tu, Yuki?"

"Oui," I said, nodding. "Not your friend. He's got the focus of a sniper rifle."

Leorio laughed. "If he's bothering you too much, tell me. I'll set him straight—I didn't raise him to besmirch my name and waste my good reputation, y'know. I'll always be here to give encouragement and _advice_. I'm a doctor; I know stuff."

When I caught what he was trying to imply, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Oh, crap. You gave Killua the sex talk? He's seventeen!" And he probably got the gist of it pretty damn well.

Leorio shrugged unapologetically. "I had to! What can I say? If I don't embarrass my friends every once and a while, they'll revoke my status as the parent-friend."

I laughed, shaking my head at him.

When we reached the elevators and I had to get in, Leorio turned to me with a true big-brother, parent-y smile. "You kids—all four of you—your happiness is what's important to me. I don't care how it happens, just that you go and get happy."

* * *

I tapped my fingers impatiently against the bar.

Since I came so early, I waited in the massive suite for Killua to finish his shower. Hooking my legs around the rung of the barstool behind me, I blew another bubble with the gum I was chewing. During the last thirty minutes, I'd done nothing but distract myself with literally anything. I'd twiddled my thumbs. I'd unrolled and rolled up my shirt sleeves―multiple times. I'd scanned a sports magazine while whistling the theme of an old cartoon. I'd updated all the applications on my phone. I'd even attempted to give myself an at-home (aka shitty) manicure.

This date contrasted the first one in everything. I did not feel nervous or shy; I felt excited. I did not wait for him anywhere to pick me up, because I didn't want him to take me; I just wanted him to have me. I did not wear a fancy dress with silky ribbons and I did not have any chemical substances or scalp-torturing pins in my hair. No extra long lashes, fake-pinked cheeks, or Lolita-red lips. Just me in a form-fitting, black and red plaid, long-sleeved button-up, tight jean-shorts, and lace-up hiking combat boots. My hair was held back in a loose ponytail. Wisps of outgrown bangs were side-swept across my forehead and down into my eyes. I looked like the picture of comfort and practicality. Because that's exactly what I was.

I didn't have any reason to be nervous; this time, I knew what I was getting myself into. Killua was just like any normal, seventeen-year-old boy: An asshole.

A gorgeous asshole. A gorgeous, strangely mysterious asshole. A gorgeous, strangely mysterious, deliciously intelligent asshole. A gorgeous, strangely mysterious, deliciously intelligent, heart-poundingly possessive, frighteningly daring, temper-tantrums throwing, emerald-eyed asshole.

The worst kind of asshole.

Without turning my head, I spoke, "If you're trying to sneak up on me and scare me the way you did this morning, I'll barbecue you." I trained my voice to be exasperated but instead sounding slightly amused. Which I was. "No, worse, I'll shish kebab you." Swinging the barstool fully around, I came face-to-face with the very devil I had been thinking of standing right behind me.

Killua's smirk was glib not smug as he came closer, his hands lithely pushing my knees apart so he could maneuver himself to stand between them. "Well, you'd be the sweetest skewer to die on," he said, simpering.

I rolled my eyes at his attempt to butter me up. "Funny, usually, _you're_ the one skewering my head." His eyebrows shot up in surprise; _he_ normally had the witty, whip-smart retorts department cornered, not me. I shrugged and added, "Looks like you're rubbing off on me." He opened his mouth to retort but I beat him to it. "Or rubbing _on_ me." I added again, looking at where his hands were slowly inching up and down the backs of my thighs.

He bowed his head to me, feigning reverent pride. "The student has become the teacher."

"More like the tortured has become the torturer."

He laughed. "Did you miss me?"

"Not at all," I lied, smiling.

He composed his expression into one of casual apathy and shrugged. "Yeah me neither. I also didn't think about you all day."

"Same here. You were definitely not the center of my thoughts today."

He scoffed quietly. "Definitely not. Neither were you."

Then almost like we'd counted to three, we both broke into matching grins.

"Ready to go?"

"Yup." With my hands on his shoulder, I hopped off the barstool. Just as my feet met the ground, I could feel myself going very still and silent as I took in what he looked like after he had showered and changed. I didn't know if it was cellular biology or genetics, but I learned that when it came to Killua, I had a bit of a staring problem, and it seemed to be deteriorating.

He was in a plain, charcoal grey henley. If I stared harder, I could see the outline of his chest―two sets of finely carved sinewy hard muscle that I could feel beneath the soft fabric. His body weighed down my feather-touch like his presence usually weighed down the tension in the whole room. He was nowhere near bulky, but his body gave the look of being fit. Like a sports car, his aesthetic hiding, yet still hinting at an agile athleticism. My eyes could not pick a spot to stare at, roaming up his shoulders, neck, jaw, until finally settling to meet his gaze.

Unluckily, he caught me mid-stare. With his lascivious, lopsided smile in place, he teasingly commented, "Contrary to the popular belief, you can't stare my clothes off. It has to be done manually."

I stopped breathing. My heartbeat sped up. My mouth went dry.

_Asshole._

But I managed to give a non-committal shrug and roll my eyes.

"Hey, Killua?" Gon poked his head out of his bedroom door, looking haughty and uncharacteristically annoyed. "Have you seen my pink _manly_ boxers?"

"Um, no," Killua replied, looking so sinfully innocent.

Gon's brows furrowed in confusion as he pouted. "Weird," he muttered, his head disappearing back inside the room.

Almost maniacally, Killua turned and grinned at me, wide and toothy, instantly dispelling the tense atmosphere. I tried to keep a straight face, but his mirth pervaded, causing me to shake my head as I grinned back at him.

"Let's go," I said. "I'm starving."

"Sure." Killua motioned with his hand for me. "Ladies first."

_Huh.__ That's surprisingly nice._

But as I walked in front of him, he pinched my butt, making me yelp.

"MOTHERFU—"

"You okay, Yuki?" Gon asked, poking his head again.

I shot a dirty look at Killua as I answered, "Yeah, I'm fine." The minute Gon's head was out of sight, Killua winked and reached to do it again. I jerked forward, bumping into the couch and yelping again.

"You sure you're okay, Yuki?" Gon called out.

"I just… tripped," I said, sighing as I walked down the foyer that led to the front door. I could see Killua's smirk out of the corner of my eyes—it was going to be a long night.

* * *

I had insisted that we have dinner in the same, small restaurant where we had our first meal together weeks ago. The place was exactly the way I remembered it. Warm and cozy. Sweet and unpretentious. The opposite of how Killua came off when we first came here, but the madness of that day was in the past.

We were given a table in the back corner without anyone on either side of us. The old waiter, who had apparently known Killua for three years, was just as I remembered; genuinely welcoming. He spoke with Killua for a few minutes, catching up on personal stuff, but still didn't miss a chance to be a good wingman and tell me how 'dreamy' Killua was.

"Hear that?" Killua said to me. "Dreamy. Take notes. You missed this class the first time it was taught."

I smirked. "Nop. I dropped it because the professor was an idiot."

He laughed and went back to his conversation with the waiter, but I didn't catch the rest of it. I was distracted all of a sudden when I discovered that Killua's hand was seriously addicting. Or rather, holding his hand, touching his skin was addicting. I wanted it to be enough, but the roughness of his hand, the feel of his fingers wrapped around mine, knowing that if I was close enough to touch his hand, I was close enough to touch the rest of him, was—

"Good evening."

I stopped playing with his fingers and raised my eyes to see that the old waiter had left and in his place stood a tall, reedy young-looking man swathed in a white apron. He stepped up to our table with an order pad at the ready. Then he edged around the table and for some weird reason, stopped next to my chair. "I'll be your server this evening." He turned his slanted smile towards me. "What can I get you?"

I darted my eyes to look at Killua, but he didn't answer. The waiter wasn't asking us; he was asking _me_. "Um…" I pursed my lips, picking up the menu. The unwanted attention made me feel too self-conscious. "I'll have the―" The waiter leaned over my chair to hear better, his breath ruffling my bangs. I shuddered, unnerved. Without even looking, I could feel the tension radiating from Killua. A glance over my shoulder revealed exactly what I'd expected, one very unhappy Zaoldyeck.

_Don't make me jealous_.

"Oh, um, I'll have the gnocchi," I said brightly, turning to the waiter and shoving my menu in his hand, all the while giving him the _Please stay away from me_ vibe.

"Excellent choice." The waiter flashed me that charismatic smile once again. For very quick seconds, his eyes looked me up and down, lingering on all the…_feminine_ parts, not at all gentlemanly, before he turned to Killua. "What about you?"

Killua draped his arm along the back of my chair and glanced briefly at his menu. His expression was emotionless, which wasn't necessarily a good thing. "I'll have the dessert cart," he said, boredom laced in his tone.

I thoroughly enjoyed the hapless, dumb look on the waiter's face.

"You don't want an entrée? We have an amazing shrimp scampi―"

"No." Killua snapped the menu shut, his patience growing thin. "I want the dessert cart, in its entirety. That's all."

The waiter was flabbergasted. "B-but, uh, the dessert cart is also for the other guests, uh, I can't just give you the whole thing. You can't eat the whole thing anyway!"

Killua shot him a look. "Watch me."

The waiter swallowed, clearly intimidated. He backed up slightly. "But—I just—you can't—"

"There are very few things I can't do," Killua interrupted calmly, but his voice took on the growling tone that I had to admit was rather terrifying. It was a rare occasion when Killua let someone—other than me—irk him to the point of raising his temper, rarer still that he would make it evident. But when he did—like right now—his eyes would flash and he would be every bit of the ferocious predator he was raised to be. "Things that are beyond comprehension for a complete nincompoop like you. Get me the cart and then get out of my sight and pray that you never find yourself in it again," he said. The waiter shrank with every word Killua spoke and slunk away without another word.

I waited a few seconds before speaking. "You just said 'nincompoop', Killua."

"I know," Killua groaned, closing his eyes.

Few more seconds. "You said _nincom—"_

"I know! Drop it. It was a heat of the moment, rage-induced brain fart, alright?"

"No, seriously, ignoring the fact that your comprehension is probably about ten times the normal comprehension of the average person and you're claiming to have a brain fart, you brain-farted 'nincom_poop_'?" I asked incredulously. I couldn't help but tease him.

"It just came out!"

"Careful, Killua, your hair's age is showing."

He glared at me. "He was looking at you like…" He gritted his teeth and I almost felt sorry for what happened. Thank god the waiter had left. "Like you're a _thing_. I wanted to…" He stopped, seemingly catching himself before saying something I didn't want to hear, but in the next moment, he was back to irate. "He's not allowed to look at you like that."

"No?"

"No," he replied, his voice suddenly gentle. My breath was bated and my heart was racing to hear his next words as he met my eyes. "No one is allowed to look at you like that."

"How is anyone allowed to look at me?" I tried, unsuccessfully, to keep my voice from trembling.

"_If_ I give them permission to then they should look at you like…" he trailed off, unable to find the right words. I didn't expect him to; he was never a word person, never really the talk-about-your-feelings kind of guys. But everything he wanted to say was right in his eyes. I couldn't tell if he always looked at me like that or it was just right now. But I could finally see it. He was looking at me like I was some sort of art. A wonder of the world. A center of something very indefinable and special.

It was a good thing our food arrived a few moments later because I had no idea what I was going to do. Perhaps something ridiculous and not suitable for public places.

* * *

"How's your meal?"

"Fantastic," I answered, wiping my hands and mouth with my napkin. "The walnut sauce was so smooth, you know. The nutty flavor complimented the richness of the pasta. The texture of the mushrooms was amazing and―" I paused, knowing that I might have said too much, if not for the way Killua's smile stretched wide. What can I say? I loved food. "How's your cart?" I glanced at the very huge (and almost empty) cart next to our table.

Killua shrugged. "Alright. It was edible." Then the tips of his mouth quirked up as he tried to suppress a smile. "Just like y―"

"I warn you to finish that sentence."

His smile changed somehow, growing more teasing yet more intense at the same time. He looked me up and down once, just like that waiter had. But not like that waiter at all, because I rather welcomed Killua's gaze. That was since I realized how it made me feel; warm and wanted.

Well, until his gaze lingered on certain parts of me just a little too long.

"Alright, alright," I said, rolling my eyes as I turned his face away with my hand. He grinned like a canary-stuffed cat. Too bad the canary was, well, me. He was absolutely right in what he'd said last night: he was very much a guy.

I couldn't wait to see more of that guy tonight.

"Ask for the check and wait for me, I'll be back in a minute." He kissed me swiftly but softly on the cheek before he stood from the table. But before leaving, he picked a piece of cake with lots of thick, creamy icing from the cart and dropped it in my plate. He leaned closer to my ear, and in a low but incendiary voice, he said, "Try this. I'm gonna want to know what it tastes like later tonight."

My jaw might have been hanging open when he left.

I tried to fight another smile but there was no point. He didn't need to watch me closely like he always did, waiting for the moment when I gave in. No matter how much I fought it, it was clear—I was always going to smile.

As we were leaving the restaurant, I could have sworn I saw the makings of a black-eye forming on that waiter's face.

* * *

"You've never been like this," I pointed out as I brought the cone to my face and took another big bite of my ice cream, which consisted of cookies, chocolate, pralines and magically enough, doughnuts. The flavor was delightful, just the way Killua told me it would be.

"Like what?" he asked, walking and staring at the dark road ahead of us.

"Like easy-going and honest. Shockingly so. You've always been too guarded and gloomy and moody and brooding—"

"But I'm rather good-looking when I brood," he teased. I narrowed my eyes at him. He smiled and rolled his eyes, an act that should annoy me more than it did, except that when he did it, his eyelashes almost touched his eyebrows and looked so pretty that it melted away my irritation. "Yes, I was a little guarded, but that was legitimate. I didn't know who to be around you, and what part of me I had to show. There was no way I could tell you the truth—who I was and who I am now. I couldn't be… me. And it made me feel like shit. Which explains the gloominess."

I smiled and said nothing, hoping he'd talk more. For the first time, he was _talking_, about feelings, freely and wholeheartedly, and it sounded weird coming from him. But I liked it.

"I was trying to forget the past and just be who I am, but there was always this reminder—this voice in my head that kept asking me to run and telling me how bad I should be feeling about doing this to you. That I had no right to do so, and that I didn't deserve it. It came every now and then, like a slap of reality. Which explains the mood swings."

Feeling a little guilty myself about being the only one who was eating, I lifted the cone to his mouth and offered him a bite. Watching his face closely, I asked, "And now?"

He swallowed and licked his lips, before saying, "Now I have nothing to hide, and it makes me feel… free, somehow. I'm an open book now."

"You? An open book? That's going to take some getting used to."

"Tell me about it." He smiled and looked forward at the road. "No lies, no secrets. I'm practicing the rule." He paused a little before adding, "Unlike you."

My stomach dropped, and I was sure I was having brain freeze, even though I hadn't finished my ice cream yet. "What do you mean?"

"You don't tell me anything," he said, but there was no admonition in his voice, just slight disappointment. "You won't tell me the story behind the necklace. You won't tell me where you were that night after I escaped the police station. I don't even know what happened that night with Aimi, or why you… did what you did. Jei wouldn't tell me, and neither would you." I didn't answer so he snapped in front of my face a couple of times to get my attention. He looked worried. "Hey, you don't have to tell me _now_. Just tell me one day."

I swallowed hard and nodded.

Millions of thoughts and memories fell over my head like a bucket of cold water. Guilt clawed at me. It bothered me. Now that he'd mentioned that, I knew I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it. To tell or not to tell, I had no clue. I didn't like to be the one with the secrets.

I could only eat my ice cream now. In my nervousness, I'd managed to finish the entire thing within a few seconds.

Killua eyed me with amusement. "Maybe I should buy you another one. The sugar rush might force you to spill the beans." The atmosphere immediately shifted, something he could easily do in a matter of seconds—either put me at perfect ease or make me feel that a crisis was looming.

"I'm sorry I'm so brave when I'm high but not when I'm sober," I whispered after a few moments.

He stopped walking and took my face in his hands. "Oh, Yuki," he said, caressing my cheekbones with his thumbs. "You're not brave when you're high." He smiled and kissed the tip of my nose. "Just stupid."

I smiled and fiddled with the hem of his shirt, too embarrassed to look at him. "I'll be ready soon, I promise. I'm trying. I want you to know everything, but—"

"I'll wait." His eyes glinted in the moonlight, two green lanterns glowing like a cat's, filled with mischief. "I'm proactive but very patient. When I want to," he added the last part when I raised a doubting eyebrow at him. "I have my ways to make you trust me enough to tell me everything."

"Ha! What are you hiding up your sleeve?"

He smirked. "Nothing but a well-toned bicep, don't worry."

I could only smile back, and my blush was probably giving away how besotted I was with him right now. "Whatever. I tried to put a _bullet_ through you. What more do you want from me?"

"Oh, not too much." He wound his arms around me, holding me flush against him. "Only everything."

* * *

We had walked into a warmly illuminated park, secluded from the rush of the crowded streets and people walking by. There was a sprawling, green-watered lake where I attempted to do some stone skipping. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find the ideal angle, so I was failing. My stones kept bouncing off the water, high in the air, and then sinking. It was more difficult than I dared to admit, and hearing someone constantly whining didn't help the process at all. Few feet behind me, Killua was on a bench, being what Leorio 'raised him to be': a gigantic pain in my ass.

"Horrible angle—"

"Stop talking, Killua."

"—Aaaaand it sinks again. Told you it's a bad angle. Listen to the master."

"You're getting on my nerves, Killua."

"—this is not how you hold the stone. What are you, a freakin' chimpanzee?"

"I'm going to kill you, Killua."

"—I can't look. This is painful to watch."

"I'm trying!"

"Wrong, wrong, _wrong_, did I mention WRONG?"

I kicked at a pebble in frustration. "Fine! Why don't you come here and show me how?"

He coughed into his fist and stood up.

"Well, there are three main words for stone skipping. Stand, spin, speed," he listed as he walked over to speak from behind me. "Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart." He gripped my shoulder blades and rolled them back, squaring them. His foot wedged between my feet, a signal to pry them apart, so I did. "Spin your body around until you're facing sideways to the water." He did just that, squeezing my upper arms. "Your dominant side should be closest to the water's edge." I nodded, but then all my focus was gone as the nearness of him registered and his hand started to wander. "Shape and angle are the crucial factors, but the angle―" He skimmed the curve between my ribcage and my hip-bone "―is the most important."

I shivered, my breath hitching. "Okay, got it. You can go now."

"Don't forget to have a good grip," he continued evenly, his cool breath running down the tip of my ear. His fingertips glided along my forearm, up my wrist, and across my hand, fingers curving over mine, tightening around the rock. "Curl your middle finger underneath the rock, and your ring and pinky up, like holding a pencil. Strength is required, so hold it tightly."

I whipped my head around, leaving our faces so close, close enough that I could count the dusting blue flecks in his eyes. I realized that the urge to kiss him from a two days ago—or if I was being honest, from weeks ago—was getting stronger and stronger. His lips had never looked so soft, so supple, and I missed the way they felt against mine. He remained where he was, staring impassively down at me, and before I knew what the hell I was doing, I was leaning in.

I was about to close the distance when he said—rather loudly, compared to the euphonious tones of his previous words—"And that's how you do it!"

Then he abruptly, despicably, yanked himself away from me and turned to walk. _Freakin' walked away_. I stumbled forward in surprise, almost falling and knocking my face against the ground.

He sat back on his bench. His face was the picture of smug superiority when he crossed his legs and gestured with his hand for me. "Go ahead," he prompted cockily. The only tell in his poker-face demeanor was the slight twitch of his left eye. Me, on the other hand, I was pretty sure my entire body was twitching. He did that on purpose—which was making me want him—and I just stood there, turned inside out, trying to put myself back together.

_Asshole._

I threaded my mind away from what just happened, concentrating on his instructions instead. I aimed the rock and threw it low, parallel to the water's surface. It skipped twenty-five times.

I turned to Killua with a triumphant grin. He winked and gave me a thumb-up.

I began, "So I was thinking—"

"That's good, something new and different for you—"

"_I was thinking_," I spoke over him, undeterred. "We should play a game to get to know each other."

"Isn't that a bit juvenile?"

"You said the same thing about the hide and seek game, but we ended up having plenty of fun," I argued, picking up another rock. "Games like this are a good way to find out things you never knew about someone."

"Yeah, but I can think of another way to find out something you might never have known about someone," he said and grinned rakishly at me, but upon seeing the glare on my face, he retreated from innuendo. "Fine, fine. Play away. Your loss."

"Let's play Two Truths and a Lie."

"I've never heard of it."

"It's easy," I said, facing him. "I'll tell you two truthful things about myself and one lie and you have to figure out what the lie is."

"Okay, I'm in," he said enthusiastically. "You go first."

"Let me think for a moment." I smiled, juggling the rock back and forth between my hands. "Okay, mine are: One, I dyed my hair bright pink when I was thirteen. Two, I play the drums like nobody's business. Three, I have a tattoo on my chest."

Killua raised his eyebrows. There was a minute or two of silence before he piped up, "Two is the lie. No offense, but I can't really see you handling two sticks and a set of drumheads. You barely handle the sticks that are your legs."

I shook my head. "Wrong. The dying my hair pink is the lie." He looked at me, and his eyes danced. "Gary is quite the musical geek; he always tried to push me to be like him when I was little. 'Twas a good way to blow off steam." I stopped there, because I surely wasn't going to tell _him_ about the tattoo, so I tossed him the rock in my hand. He caught it deftly and blinked. "Your turn. Go."

"Okay. Here we go." He composed his face into a serious expression and rested his elbows on the back of the bench, one hand doing the count. "One, I lost my virginity to a stripper. Two, I used to play Russian Roulette when I was five. And three, I'm an emotionally damaged douchebag. There."

I rolled my eyes heavenward. "That's pretty obvious. Three is the lie."

Killua scoffed. "You _know_ that one's true."

"No, it's not, because you editorialized it. If you said 'I'm a douchebag', then, yeah, that's very true. I don't think you're emotionally damaged."

"Well, in that case, I lose this game because there's another lie."

"Eh, it's number one."

"How very predictable of you, _and_ judgmental. You think I'd played Russian Roulette just because I grew up in a family of assassins?" he asked, trying to sound offended. I merely nodded back, and he scowled. "Really, that's what you're basing your judgment on? Do you ever change? You're such a―" He stopped himself as a strange expression fell across his face. A moment later, however, he schooled it into his default look—nonchalance resembling arrogance. And he shrugged. "Haters gonna hate."

My eyes almost bulged in shock. "I… I can't believe you just used that phrase. You're such a dork, Killua."

"I'm rubber, you're glue. Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks back to you."

My jaw dropped. "Oh, my god, what are you like, twelve?"

"Sticks and stones may break my bones—"

"Shut up!" I grinned, disbelieving.

He grinned back. "Make me."

"Maybe I will. By throwing these rocks right _into_ your eyes."

"Not my 'pretty' eyes!" Killua exclaimed, dramatically holding his hand near his heart. He gave his dark eyelashes a little flutter. "Some girls love them to death."

We continued the childish exchange of quips and insults, like a pair of annoying kids, launching into a witty tirade of name-calling which varied in its silly creativity, or creative silliness. Then, like a couple of flirting teenagers, we wound up playing catch with the rock―or rather, I was _trying_ to hit him with it, but he kept catching it without moving. With every throw and toss, I was unconsciously approaching him. And by the end of it, I was leaning on top of him over the bench, the rock fell out of my hand, my wrists between his fingers, my face being pulled to his, and it felt so, so grown up.

The stern look I gave him was so half-hearted. I rolled my eyes and tried to look nonchalant, and not amused; it was more difficult than I cared to admit. I was shocked at how much I was enjoying this _juvenile_ exchange. I'd never seen him so lighthearted and immature. So _happy_. I wanted to see him look like this more often. I wanted to see him look like this all the time.

He looked at me for a long, lingering moment, drawing my eyes to his. His gilded gaze was as bright, smoldering and yet sweet, as I always knew it.

"You're not emotionally damaged," I insisted, straightening up. Killua frowned slightly. "And you're an idiot for thinking that you are―" I covered his lips with my finger when he tried to reply "―and you'll always be an idiot if you believe that. You're not perfect. But getting to see all of you kind of is."

The fluttering in my heart amplified tenfold when he smiled, almost shyly, looking away and there it was, that blush, right at the top of his cheeks. It was so rare and one of my favorite things and I wanted to make sure I got to see every time he blushed like that. If only to spend a very long time making him blush like that.

When he looked up again, he was back to his normal cocky, joking self. He nipped my finger with his teeth, making me laugh and jerk my hand away.

"Ouch? What was that for?"

"Come sit with me," he said quietly. Not even bothering to hide my eagerness, I hurried to hop on the bench next to him, but then his voice stopped me. "Not here."

I looked at him skeptically.

His mouth curved in a slow, wicked smile as he held his hand out to me.

When I took it, he tugged me over to stand between his legs and looked up at me, just for a second or two, but they were enough to make my heartbeat speed up. He pushed me back so he could bring his legs together, then pulled me forward again and down his lap, a knee on either side of his hips. His movements were not forceful. They were coaxes, directions that I happily followed.

He wrapped his arms around my back and buried his head in my chest, his solid heat embracing me. "Since I've been easy-going and nice, will you stay with me tonight?" he mumbled into my collarbone. I closed my eyes and smiled. He sounded like a little boy trying to convince his parents to let him have a sleepover.

"Will you make me breakfast in the morning?" I retorted.

"I can do that." He tilted his head up and his lips pressed to my neck. "Don't leave me alone with my fucked-up mind. It doesn't like me very much."

"Okay. Then I'll think about it."

His head shot up, and the look he gave me was absolutely lethal. "Stop teasing me. I'll kidnap you and lock you in my room and never let you out."

I pinched his cheek. "There's the bad boy I know and love."

"You love the bad boy, huh?" He smiled crookedly. "Here I've been trying to be good and patient, and you're all about going home with the bad boy."

I laughed and draped my arms around his neck. "I love the good boy, too."

He dropped his head again. "Hmm. Which one should convince you to spend the night with me?" I could practically hear the evil smile in his voice.

He took his time in driving me crazy, the way he always did. I closed my eyes and let him. His mouth on my throat was moving at a tantalizingly slow pace, and everything around me blurred into irrelevancy. Everything but the tiny delicious kisses up and down my neck, nipping and taking over all my thoughts. There was so much warmth in my blood right now, but his skin on mine cooled and calmed me. I placed my chin on top of his head and played with the back of his hair, having learned how much he liked it. Having learned how much _I_ liked it. I wound it through my fingers, and he let out a low growl right into my pulse, making it fly even higher. The bad boy was killing me softly and slowly.

He said something into my skin. It was garbled—something along the lines of "This is nice," with his lips moving right below my ear. I hummed without saying anything back, but in my mind I was thinking: _this isn't nice_. _This is perfect_.

I never knew that tonight could go so perfectly—that _we_ could fit so perfectly. He was still the same smug, annoyingly mischievous person, and I was still me; neurotic and silly with the habit of making simple things a challenge, which often clouded the simplest truths. The only thing that Killua and I might be better at than being ourselves was being ourselves with each other.

My eyes opened, my head suddenly spinning with unpleasant thoughts. He was so honest and earnest, opened up to me like he never had before. Everything he spoke was with a full heart. Something closed in on my chest; my nutty neuroses had found a way into me. The voices that had used to chase after him turned on me. I could feel the anxiety clutching at me.

_No lies, no secrets._

I owed him the same courtesy.

What was the worse that could happen?

Taking advantage of his passionate and possibly oblivious state, I snapped, hoping the words would escape safely and get lost. In my craziest moment of honesty, I blurted, "I can tell you something about that night."

"Hmm?"

"I—I didn't kill Aimi's brother." The truth came out against my will, like a word-vomit; a confession that I hadn't intended on making tonight.

Killua paused for a second. "I know you didn't. Jei did," he said into my neck.

"No, I mean, I didn't kill Aimi's _big_ brother. It wasn't me. She accused me of doing it, but I denied it. I denied it all night long. When I told her that I did, I was lying."

He snorted, pulling back slightly to look at me. "You lied about lying? You had a death wish? What—" Then he stilled, all of a sudden, a look of realization crossing his face. His smile died, and his lips thinned into a knife-like line. His brows raised in shock as he straightened and leaned completely away from me, his back hitting the bench with a soft thud. The warmth of his body and his demeanor replaced with a frosty silence and cold bewilderment for me. I watched nervously as his eyes lost their merriment and mirth and instead got murderously wide. "_What?_"

I gulped. Suddenly, I wanted to run far away from him.

He scrutinized me, narrowing his eyes. "Why did you do that?"

I wanted to huff and shout back something like, _Why does it matter now?_ and_ I__t's all in the past!_ and _You've kinda done the same thing before!_ and especially, _can you go back to kissing me? _But I knew we wouldn't get anywhere till I answered him.

I cursed my traitorous mouth and lied, "I don't know." But I knew he wasn't convinced, because I was blinking like crazy.

"Why did you do that, Yuki?" he repeated calmly, _very_ calmly, his voice holding a deadly edge.

"Because Aimi was going to shoot you! I couldn't stand the idea of you getting shot and almost dying because of a stupid bullet. Not again. I wasn't thinking clearly that night, and Aimi was frantic. I didn't know what to do or say, but I couldn't just sit there and watch her attempt to kill you. So I provoked her, and it worked."

Killua said nothing.

He shook his head but wouldn't look at me anymore. His hands clenched beside him over the bench. Clench and release. Clench and release. Clench and release. Like they were following the rhythm of my insanely panicked heartbeat. The muscles of his legs hardened and I could barely hear his breathing. Freaking out a little, I put my hands on his shoulders, trying to calm him down. He stiffened and caught my wrists roughly, stilling my movement. He pushed me back, sliding me off his lap so he could stand.

I steadied myself on my feet and stared at him with a look of confusion. "Look at me."

"No." His head bowed.

"Why not?"

When his eyes finally met mine, I wished they hadn't. They were black, full of anger and betrayal. "Because I can't believe how _stupid _you are!" he roared into my face, towering over me.

My lungs screamed for air that I couldn't give them. "Excuse me?"

"It's one thing to ignore my _one_ request to not throw yourself at troubles. Another to run away from me into the arms of crazed, homicidal twins. But this?" he barked. His eyes seared me with heat. "I told you! I goddamn told you not to hurt me like that! Do you have any idea what I've gone through because of that stupid lie of yours? You put me through _hell_, and now I find out it was all done for me!"

I flinched at the volume of his voice, staring at him in disbelief. "Did you just blame me because I didn't want you to get hurt? I thought most guys liked—"

"I'm _not_ most guys!"

_That's for sure._

"And I'm blaming you because you didn't have to do that! I was going to handle it without your help! I don't want you to do _anything_ for me! There is no reason for you to risk anything for me! I freakin' _told_ you that a bullet doesn't kill me… _damn it, _Yuki." He grabbed my arm and tugged me harshly forward. "I'm so sick of you acting like you can just do whatever the hell you want without thinking about the consequences. Are you really that fucking _naïve?_"

I yanked my arm away. I had to look away or I was going to hit him in the face.

"Goddamn it. Why do you keep doing this to me?" He kicked at the lamppost and the light flickered for a few seconds, before he looked over my shoulder at nothing, his jaw tight. "You're unbelievable. You never learn."

Here we go again. Back to the root of most of our fights.

"_Me?_ What about you? Do you hear yourself right now?" I charged and shoved him heatedly. "You're still the same obstinate, insufferable asshole. How was I supposed to know you could get out of there unharmed? I acted on impulse! I didn't know what Aimi was capable of!"

"You were worried about me getting hurt?" he scoffed a bitter laugh. "You didn't think of what was going to happen to me if _you_ got hurt? If you died? How could you be so selfish?"

For some reason, I found his logic quite hysterical. I pressed a hand over my mouth, my shoulders shaking. I tried to hold it for a second or two, but I couldn't help it anymore; I started laughing. Once I started, I couldn't stop. The tension evaporated from my body. I cracked up uncontrollably, laughing to the point of pain, as Killua scowled at me.

"What the hell?" he sneered, taking a step back. He got this adorable, confused look on his face that I just wanted to kiss off. "Stop laughing!"

I found his indignation even more hysterical, dammit. It made me laugh ever harder.

"_Yuki!_" he warned, pushing slightly at my shoulder. "It's not funny!"

I managed to tamp down my giggles, though one or two still escaped. "You're right, you're right. It's not." I composed my face with effort to look suitably serious. "You're such a hypocrite by the way. You took a bullet for me once. How could you blame me for doing the same?"

"Because!" He glared at me, searching for the convincing answer that didn't exist. "Only I can do it."

"Oh, so you can do it and I can't?"

He crossed his arms and jutted his chin in defiance. "Yes."

I bit my lip, suppressing a sudden smile. "What's going on right now? Are we fighting or are we dating?"

"Both, I guess!" he snapped, frustrated. He grumbled something I couldn't make out, before he exhaled. Slowly and deeply. "I'm so, so angry at you right now."

He really, really was. I noticed he was shaking violently, charged with repressed, inarticulate, destructive fury. The realization had managed to quiet the laughter that overtook my body. I was still confused to why he was having such powerful reaction, but I knew I had to do some damage control.

I crossed my arms. "I shouldn't apologize for this. I don't regret it, and I'd do it again if I had to," I told him. "But that's what I do—I panic. I try to think, but it usually doesn't work. My mind sort of blanks out when I sense danger. I don't know what to do or what to think of."

My words seemed to drive him even angrier.

"You _never_ think! Not when it really matters! How can someone be so smart and yet so utterly stupid?" he sneered. "You don't sacrifice your life when it's not necessary. You just don't."

"For me, it was necessary. You might have—"

"It wasn't! Even if it was, _no_ one is worth sacrificing your life for!"

I blinked in surprise. "You don't actually believe that."

"Yes, I do. And especially _not_ me." He avoided my gaze, an alarming pinched expression on his features. There was a flash of horror behind his eyes as if he was re-remembering something, and it made the shadows settle even more harshly on his face. He was cracking. "People died. People I cared about died because of me. You can't be one of them. I won't handle… Not again…"

Oh, you bothersome, broken boy. _What happened to you in the past?_ I wanted to ask him. There was a reason behind his reaction. Something was hidden behind these words, something bitter and agonizing. It affected him more than I could have imagined. Someone must have hurt him in ways I couldn't begin to understand, and his pain was all too real.

"Who?" I took a careful step towards him. "Who died because of you?"

Killua froze, his chest lifting and falling rapidly. "Landmine, Yuki. Don't go there," he snarled through clenched teeth.

I stopped breathing for a second as his temper threatened to boil over. I knew that look. I knew it because I used to see on my own face whenever I looked at a mirror. This was one of tormenting memories he kept hidden under the rug, pretending it didn't happen. Pretending it was forgotten. No matter how honest and open he was, I had no right to dig any deeper or come near the landmines—the metaphorical lines he drew around his heart. He wouldn't let me get there. For now, I had to stay clear of them, or someone might explode. Probably the both of us. He was still not stable enough to let me in, and that made me scared. Not of him, but _for_ him.

Had he ever talked to someone about this? Had he ever told someone what he'd been through?

Had he always been so alone?

"Killua—"

"Listen to me." He moved a step toward me and stooped to look into my eyes, as if resorting to height to prove his superiority. His eyes stared daggers at my face. "If you ever do something like that again, be sure that I'll never forgive you," he threatened. "If I ever find out that you're trying to risk your life for anyone—for me, especially—I'll never forgive and I'll never forget. Keep that in mind." Strength and determination were etched in his face, but I saw the sorrow edging its way into his eyes.

I accepted his challenge by stepping toward him in return. My heels left the ground to meet his gaze directly. "Are you done?"

He frowned. "What?"

I placed a hand on his chest while the other clutched his shirt to bring him back over to me. "Are you done?" I repeated, my breath touching his lips.

He swallowed and his eyes darkened. He seemed to have a brief internal debate, wherein his eyes flickered between my eyes and my mouth. "No," he said stubbornly.

"Okay." I traced the arch of his furrowed brow and watched his eyes close. "I'll just be here then. If you want to be angry at me, fine, go ahead. If you want to talk about it, I'll listen. If you want to vent and let loose, I'll wait for you till you let it all out. If you want to shred your self-esteem and tell me how unworthy you are, I'll prove you wrong and tell you all the things I love about you. But know that I won't let you lose yourself in the past. I'll snatch you back and hold you. Then I'll tell you what an idiot you are. I'll do it all night if I have to."

The tension in his shoulders eased. His gaze lowered to my face, his eyes filled with such pain that made my throat tight.

I stared hard up into his eyes. "Everything's just a memory now. Let's forget. We need that. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

He was silent; I was silent. Neither of us said another word. Our eyes were locked on to each other's, intense emotions flitting throughout my body as we stood intimately close together. My eyes searched his for a clarity I wanted him to give me, but the words failed to make their way past his lips or mine. I didn't know exactly what had happened to him to make him say this stuff to me, and I didn't know what it was that he wanted me to give him. But if I did, I was more than sure that in this moment, I'd give it to him.

His hands went to my hips and gripped them firmly, as if I'd drown into thin air if he didn't hold me tight. "Don't do that to me again," he whispered softly, almost begging, as he touched his forehead to mine, "I… I lost so much. If you got hurt because of me again, I'd lose my mind."

I reacted without thought, because it seemed like that's all what I'd been doing lately. My heart spilled over, flooding me with urgency. All I knew was that I was desperate to soothe his pain that I and everyone else had caused. Because it was _my_ turn now. It was my chance to show him that he was not alone. That I was right there with him. I cupped his face with both hands, and crashed his mouth to mine.

I wanted him to forget everything so badly. If kissing helped, then that's what we'd do.

He sighed against my lips. The moderate amount of restraint he'd been displaying all these weeks dissolved instantly, and he kissed me forcefully, his lips reclaiming mine with a tasteful hint of fervor. Pushing at my hips, he backed me up until my back was slammed against the lamppost. I gasped, my hands holding onto his forearms. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a swarm of birds fly wildly overhead, stunned by the rattling of the post.

But that was all in the periphery. Breathing, noises, movements, anything other than him seemed to mute. With both hands on my face, he tilted my chin up and kissed me thoroughly. I couldn't tell what felt harder, the lamppost against my back or his body, pressed against the front of mine.

It felt so familiar, yet strangely new. He'd never kissed me like this. He'd never been this passionate…this desperate, and I'd never felt this wanted, this needed, this thoroughly immersed in the way someone else was feeling. He kissed me like he wanted me to never breathe anything but him, to never ever let him go. His hands were still on my face, his shoulders hunched almost like he was trying to pour himself into me with this one kiss. One of his thumbs stroked my cheekbone while the other rested on my chin, coaxing it down so my mouth could open to his. I did just that, my hands trailing up to find that spot in the silken hair of the back of his neck, and he tipped his head back slightly, breaking the kiss and pressing into my hands with a soft hiss. Like a wild panther, tamed by my touch.

Catching my breath, I buried my face in his throat, kissing the skin I found there and breathing him in. The grip he had in my hair tightened roughly, tilting my head up to bring my eyes back to his, and perhaps my wonder was showing on my face, because I saw what I was feeling reflected in his. He was frowning at me slightly, with a mixture of surprise and awe, as if he was either shocked or impressed by the fury of his reaction.

At that moment, he was the closest person to my long-buried heart than anyone had been. At that moment we were not the assassin and the girl he'd stolen the most precious things from. We were simply existing, trapped by our own circumstances, lifting the shroud of our seclusion.

He bridged all the spaces left between us, and returned his mouth to mine.

And as our lips met again and again, it was like there was nothing before this—not his past, not my past, not the many years that followed our first meeting, not the few crazy weeks of our second meeting, not even the dark days of our separation. It was like this was always it; this was always where we'd end up, and it didn't matter how we got here.

"That's what you should think of," he said, quietly as we'd pulled apart. His breathing was heavy and ragged, gusting hotly against my lips. He covered my hands with his and held them flat against his chest that heaved rhythmically with every breath. "I know you're always going to do what you want because you're as stubborn as I am. But that kiss… that kiss is what you should think of when you consider doing something too dangerous. What you remember when you think about risking your life. You should think of coming back to me and getting more kisses like that so you don't do it."

I smiled. "Is that an order or another threat?"

"It's an order and a threat and a request and anything else it needs to be to make you listen to it," he replied. "Just always come back to me. That's all I want."

I cupped his cheek and ran my thumb over his lips, where his sweet words and sweeter kisses came from, and said, "Under one condition."

"Anything." I tried to ignore the fact that his answer—and how readily he gave it—warmed me to my toes.

"Take me back to the suite. I wanna spend the rest of the night with you."

He nodded, and we pulled slowly away. He raked his hands through my hair where he'd just messed it up, and we went from smiling lightly at each other to our big, goofy grins.

I slipped my hand in his and started walking. "Are you still mad?"

His answer was too quick. "Yes." Then as if realizing something, his eyes swept over me with a sublime smile on his face, sated and devilish. "But if you're in the mood, I can muster up the will for something more than a kiss."

I would usually fix him with my usual exasperated look, but there would be no force behind it. Instead, I smiled, lifting his arm and draping it over my shoulders. "Did I really put you through hell?"

Killua shrugged. "Definitely. Being away from you for five days? 'Twas torture." He placed a hand over his stupid, kind heart and made an exaggerated expression of woe. "It wounded me greatly."

I rolled my eyes at how in many cases, he always managed to twist the story so he came out either the victor or the victim—if I was selfish, he hated it, and if I was selfless, he hated it even more. But right now, I was thrilled to see him back to himself. I wiggled my hand under his so it rested once again on his chest. "I think you'll heal better in the future."

He grinned and nuzzled my hair. "You'll help me then?"

"I guess I can nurse you back to health," I teased.

"Oh, I like this. I can be the angry patient, you the naughty nurse."

I looked on in amusement as he rambled on to himself on our way back to the suite. And in the elevator, I watched him flick his bottom lip with his thumb and rake the other through his hair, trying to bring some sort of order to the bouncy strands that I'd mussed. There was something sweet about watching him pull himself back together, restoring the cool and nonchalant façade he wore in front of everybody else, when I knew more about the guy underneath.

Because stripped down beneath all his layers of lascivious bravado and the smirk and the swagger and the scary glares, and beyond his shady, shameful past, he was a lovely, lonely boy who had the simplest wish: to _be_ a boy. Who perused that dream and never looked back. And it was only when I stopped viewing him as Killua Zaoldyeck and looked at him as just Killua, that I could truly see him—the person I had once thought was made of the stuff of nightmares had emerged the boy of my dreams, in the very literal sense of the phrase.

* * *

"I'm just saying, it's really cool that you guys are here tonight," Gon noted from where he sat cross-legged on the living room floor, using the coffee table to eat his box of Chinese food dinner.

"You thought we were going to blow you off?" I asked as I sat on the arm of Killua's chair.

"Nah." Killua nibbled at Gon's fortune cookie that he'd been slowly and excruciatingly devouring for the past hour. For as good-looking as he was, he was such an ugly slow eater. "He's just getting sentimental on us because we brought him food that has rice."

Gon twirled the noodles around with his chopsticks and grinned. "I mean, you haven't been together in what—seven days? It's only fair that you spend this night alone."

Killua frowned. "And leave _you_ alone?"

"We'd never do that," I seconded. "Mostly because it's not fair, but also because, y'know, we like you and stuff."

Gon's grin widened. "I just think it's nice that you still want to put friends first."

Killua shrugged. "We _are_ friends first." He glanced at me. "I don't know if there's any other way we would be putting it."

I smiled because I couldn't have said it better myself.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this lucky. As I watched these two ribbing and playfully insulting each other in that way guys did, I realized that it felt as if a great, gaping hole in my soul was slowly being filled. This was what I'd always needed; laughter and normal nights where heavy thoughts didn't matter, and while it was a tragedy that it had taken me all these troubles to feel my age again, perhaps it had taken me so long for a reason. Perhaps I hadn't been ready until now.

"I'm beat. I'm going to bed." Discreetly patting Killua's shoulder as I stood, I added, "But only after I find _something_ to wear. I probably still have that particular something… Somewhere."

"Oh," Killua said. Then his eyes suddenly brightened as he struggled to fight the smile straining at his lips. "Ohhh. Good luck with that."

"What are you talking about?" Gon asked, oblivious.

"Hold on." Killua scowled at me. "I thought we agreed you'd burn that particular _something_."

"Nop. You agreed. I decided I wanted to keep it." I leaned in and plucked half of the cookie out of his hand. Mouth slightly agape, he watched in shock as it left his fingers. He looked like he wanted to climb over the table to throttle me when I popped the entire thing in my mouth. "Sorry, I just _needed_ to get that out of my system."

If there was one thing I had learned in the past two days about Killua, it was that he hated to share.

But that wasn't the only thing. I had also found out all the things that made him _him_. That he preferred actions to words. That he liked disgustingly milky coffee and always considered staying in huge hotel rooms so he could have enough room for his candy boxes. That he didn't remain angry for extended periods of time (I may have seen that) and that he cracked really, really bad jokes (I may have known this.) That despite his impressive intelligence and calculating nature, he incredibly hated math. That even though his family thought he was a legendary prodigy, he looked at this with a cringing reminiscence rather than pride; that despite his endless issues with them, he secretly preferred not to talk badly about them; and that he never wanted to see them again.

I had also learned that he never played outside the fence or colored outside the lines. That he always did what he was told and lived in a world where he followed certain rules set for him to be someone he was not. Rules that suffocated and held him back. Rules that were made to control and confine. Rules that linked him to the darkest memories. His world wasn't very different from mine.

But now we had another new world to explore: each other. One where we could smile and touch and know all the things we had known all along and learn so many new ones. A world where we acted on the way we felt. Our fights, the actions we'd take to protect each other, the words we'd left each other with had demolished the lines we'd drawn around us.

As Leorio had said, Killua was inherently kind. And it took me too much pain to accept that.

But of course, just because our world had changed in the last few weeks, it didn't mean Killua had to change.

As I was pulling Gon's shorts on and my hair out of its ponytail, I was startled by a low knocking on my bedroom door.

Killua's face came into view when I opened the door. I grinned instantly when I saw him, but stopped when he didn't return it. He looked me up and down, silently appraising my ensemble with an intense, unreadable stare.

"Hi?" I said, more of a breath than an actual word.

He didn't even bother with that, grabbing my arm and pushing me inside the room. Holding the door half-shut, he yelled, "Be right back, Gon!"

"What are you—"

But I couldn't finish my sentence as he slammed the door close with his back and pulled me into his arms, his lips covering mine. It was almost a little rough—or it would be if it wasn't him because his mouth was insistent but gentle against mine, full of intention, full of potential. Teasing and tugging and nipping until I had no doubt that the only thing that was going to be on my mind for the rest of the night would be this. By the time he pulled away, I could feel my pulse everywhere; slamming against my neck, in my chest, behind my knees and ten little heartbeats on the tips of each of my fingers where they'd curled around his shirt.

Pushing me back to open the door, he cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders and as he stepped outside the room, he called over his shoulder to me:

"Sorry. Had to get that out of my system."

* * *

**A/N: **Cut by _Plump_ is beautiful song for this chapter.

Yup, I know, I didn't tell you which one is Killua's lie from the game. You have fun figuring that out on your own. *trollface*

Now, before you click the review button (which you are all going to do, right?) I might need your advice with something. What are you more interested in reading: Young Killua's assassin missions or Yuki at the Hunter Exam? Both flashbacks are important for the future chapters, but due to the lack of time and space, I can only write about one of them. Let me know in a review.

If you've already reviewed the previous chapter, you won't be able to review this one using your accounts for some technical reasons. Please review anonymously and leave me your name. I'll get back to you.

Share your thoughts. (Or just one thought. Whatever suits you.) If you have some time to review, I'd love to read it.


	37. Devils

**A/N: **Hi guys! Your reviews are what brought a faster update. Thanks to _PetitL_ (my muse & reason this story got written) and _KiGaMi99 _(my much needed grammar police). Much thanks to everyone who reccs this fic (you da best!), reviews (I love you) and lurks (why so shy?).

**_38. Devils_**

* * *

"I'm telling you, Killua Zaoldyeck is like wine."

"Umm…he gets better with age?" I tried to guess, holding the phone with my shoulder and using my hands to tighten the laces of my boots.

"No, smartass," Marcus snorted in my ear. "What I meant is, he can be good, and he can be terrible, but either way, who cares? You're definitely going to get wasted. Pun intended."

I rolled my eyes. "Uh-ah."

"Don't roll your eyes. You _know_ I'm right."

I'd been listening to the same tape for twenty minutes. In that time, I'd said about ten sentences, mostly consisting of 'uh-ah' and one 'are you done?' for variety, waiting for a lull in the conversation so I could hang up and get a break. I had a lot of affection but a low tolerance for Marcus when it came to my personal life. Listening to him bitch about Killua and drone on how he could be 'the Devil' was less than an ideal way to start my morning.

"For God and Lucifer's sake, Yuki, have some sense and open your mind just _this_ much, okay? He's a disaster. Being a Zaoldyeck is pretty much like riding a bicycle; once you've learned how to do it, you simply cannot forget. Are you going to be able to handle it when he finally surrenders to his dark, ugly side? You just told me yourself that he's still got some secrets he can never spill. Haven't you considered the fact that he might always have secrets? Are you sure you know him well enough to make that judgment call?"

"Yes." When I thought of the guy I saw last night, I felt relieved at how sure my answer was—at least at that moment. But that shouldn't be a problem. As far as I knew, the only people who could get a good rise out of Killua were me and his family. And the only thing that could get a _great_ rise out of Killua—to the extent that Marcus spoke of—was me _with_ his family in the same equation. And I'd never let that happen.

"You're my best girl. I just want you to be careful. And since you're at his place, beware the cooties. God knows the number of sluts he'd brought there to cave in to his incubus demands. Careful what your hand's touching."

"Eww… Gross, Marcus." I shuddered and started backing out of my room. "I'll catch up later. See ya."

I padded down the hallway until it emptied into the expansive open floor plan of the main living area, and an unexpected sight stilled my movement.

Killua was sleeping on the sectional sofa instead of his room. He was sprawled on his stomach, one leg slightly dangling off and his arms draping all over. His face was turned facing me, relaxed in a way it never was when he was awake. Frowning in confusion, I walked over and sat down at the edge of the sofa, debating whether to wake him up or not.

I ran my fingers through his hair, brushing away the errant strands that had fallen on his face. He let out a quiet hum in his sleep… and then turned his head to the other side. Rolling my eyes, I tried again; running my hand down the side of his neck, shaking his shoulder lightly to wake him up.

Nothing.

It was at that point that my patience wore out, and I gave up on waking him with loving caresses. After all, I could caress him lovingly once he was awake, and that would be _so_ much better. Shaking his shoulder forcefully, I waited until his movements indicated consciousness. He turned his head back towards me, maybe sensing the body sitting next to him. He opened his eyes and looked up at me through his eyelashes, then closed them again. A few seconds later, he repeated the motion; opening them once more, then closing them. This time, he kept them closed but let the biggest, sweetest smile spread across his face. Then finally, he opened his eyes again and grinned at me, making my heart do a little jig in my chest.

"Hi."

He slipped his arm around my waist and pulled himself closer to me, burying his face in the side of my pant-covered thigh. "Hi, beastie."

I felt myself smiling; not at the nickname, but the idea of him giving me one. "Beastie?"

He just hummed an assent and closed his eyes.

"I'm having lunch with my uncle," I told him before he fell back to sleep, "then I'm going to work."

"Okay," he mumbled gruffly, moving his head into my lap. "Bye."

"You have to move your head."

"No."

I brushed the hair away from his face before I pressed on the tip of his nose. He cracked one eye open.

"Fine. Go to work. The sooner you go to work," he said, rolling onto his back and off my lap, "the sooner you can come home and make out with me."

I grimaced to myself, wondering out loud, "How do you go from cute to crude in a matter of seconds?"

"It's one of my many talents." With a rusty grunt, he sat up and snatched the black T-shirt that was tossed over the back of the sofa, yanking it over his half-naked body. It was a different shirt from the one he'd been wearing before I went to bed, which suddenly made me aware that he was fully dressed, too.

"Why did you sleep here and not in your bed?" I asked, trying to quell the suspicion from my voice.

There was a marred frown on his face when his head popped out of the shirt. "I don't know. Don't remember."

"Couldn't you at least kick your shoes off before you crashed?"

He replied with nothing but a shrug.

"Where were you last night?"

"Why the inquisition?" he snapped, brows furrowing and with a laughing scoff; as if my questions were so irrational. Swinging his legs off the sofa, he stood and headed into the kitchen. "You remember the receptionist from downstairs? She called. She asked me to take care of some necessary paperwork. Reservation crap. I had to sign some stuff, make some extra demands, and that was it."

Interesting. While I'd been sleeping soundly, the beautiful hotel receptionist had been enjoying some quality time with my man?

I prowled after him. "And she _had_ to call you after midnight? Couldn't she wait for today?"

His brow arched. "Jealous?"

"Changing the subject?"

He didn't look at me when he answered, "Changing the subject because the subject is stupid." He grabbed two mugs out of the cupboard and the milk out of the fridge. "Coffee? Or do you still want me to make you breakfast?"

"Coffee's good now. I need some caffeine to keep me from kicking your ass."

I saw a flash of his grin before he turned around to flip the coffeemaker on.

As he waited for the coffee to finish brewing, I watched his back. The way he looked right now—sleep-mussed hair and sleep-flushed cheeks—made me irrationally mad. How dare he not take my questions seriously? How dare he not tell me whatever it was he was up to last night? And how dare he look so good while not doing these things he really should be doing?

I walked to stand next to him, studying his rigid profile. "So…" I drawled, irritation suffusing my voice. Resting my hip against the counter, I crossed my ankles and stubbornly settled in. "What's going on? I smell something fishy."

He wrinkled his nose in mock thoughtfulness. "I don't."

"I'm serious, Killua." My foot began to tap against the travertine tile. "Something happened and you're not telling me."

"Enough." His gaze captured mine. "You asked me about last night and I told you. There's nothing more. Can we just let ourselves enjoy one, peaceful day without any fights? I'm not gonna let your neuroses destroy our morning." He filled mugs for both of us, adding milk to his and sugar to both. We hopped on the barstools, sipping our morning coffee—something I never thought _we_ would be doing before today. "So what's up? You said you're having lunch with your uncle."

Annoyed with him for changing the subject again, I looked away, determined to keep my answers similar to his; short and clipped. "Yes."

"Where?"

"At his company."

"You look nervous."

"I am."

"Alright." Lowering his mug, Killua elbowed me gently. "Ask _me_ what's up."

I couldn't help but fall into his trap. "What's up?"

He grinned that half-smile that could charm the scales off a snake, and said, "This chick I hooked up with last night is very mad at me right now."

It was so hard not to smile. "Bite me, Killua."

He smirked. "I already did," he said, tapping a spot on my collarbone covered by my shirt where he _might_ have left a tiny hickey.

I rolled my eyes and said with exaggerated excitement, "Ohhh, that's so clever! It makes you so sexy! I must have you this instant!" I scoffed at my own theatrical sarcasm.

"And you will." His smile was sweet, which threw me off. Setting his coffee on the bar, he swiveled my barstool with both hands so I was facing him, looked me straight in the eyes, and said like it was a matter of fact, "Just not this instant. But it won't be too long before you're sleeping in my bed."

My brows rose. "Is that right?"

"Oh, yeah."

Sucking in a deep breath, I took a fortifying gulp from my much needed caffeinated mug and contemplated him with narrowed eyes. "You have zero shame, you know that?"

"That's not true. I have a great deal of shame." His mouth curved. "I've just given it the day off. I've been working it hard recently, and now it's all exhausted and in need for a recuperation."

"Unlike your wit."

He pissed me off by throwing his head back and laughing. The full, throaty sound sent warmth spreading through me and swept a lot of my irritation away. "You really _are_ mad at me, aren't you? Is it because of now?" he said, eying me over the lip of his mug. "Are you piling it over what I did last night?

And as if they were just waiting to burst through the dam, my brain was flooded with memories of how he kissed and held and breathed and… God, he drove me so crazy last night.

I couldn't quite meet his eyes right now, and nowhere else on him was safe to look either, so I busied myself with staring at the wall. "Nah, you're fine."

He nodded casually, swallowing a mouthful of coffee. "Thanks. I've been working out almost my entire life. I was wondering when you'd notice. You're fine, too."

I glared at him. "Are you trying to be infuriating today?"

"Nope. Just comes naturally. Are you trying to drive me insane by looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

His voice lowered into a raspy, menacing tone. "Like you want me to throw you over that sofa and kiss you."

_Dear god_…

I forced myself not to move away or give him the satisfaction of seeing me intimidated. My arms crossed in front of me in challenge. "Then do it."

His arched brow was a silent, sarcastic comeback.

My phone chimed then, informing me that I had a new text from Marcus.

_Some famous once said: secrets… secrets are no fun. Secrets… secrets hurt someone._

His timing couldn't be more perfect.

I made a face. Not wanting more troubles at the moment, I didn't text him back. Unfortunately, ignoring it did not stop it from beeping at me again. I shut it off and slipped it back into my back pocket, aware of Killua's scrutiny.

There was a pause before he asked. "Who was that?"

"Nobody. Wrong number."

"Saved by the cellphone this time," Killua taunted. "Next time, careful what you wish for, beastie."

I closed my eyes, irritation burning through me as I slid off the stool on shaky legs. I needed to get away from him. And, when I got my head back, I needed to be alone with a big punching bag.

He was using our chemistry against me, and I wasn't going to let him. Not when I could feel the weight of his secrets all over my chest. The perceived lack of trust bugged me; he didn't trust me with whatever secrets he was keeping, and I hated that.

I walked across the luxurious room to where I left my bag and slung it around me. "You can't distract with a kiss or a laugh. Not this time. I don't like this, and you hiding after-midnight mystery outings from me doesn't make me like _you_ very much."

Killua hopped off his stool when I reached the foyer.

He dissolved and reappeared an inch from me. I jumped, and he smirked and then turned it off instantly. "When I hide something from you, it's for your own good. Trust me. Some things are better left buried," he said, keeping his voice low and slick. "But even if I sometimes _censor_ some stuff, at least I avoid _lying_ to you." He stole the phone from my pocket with one lightning fast swipe, waving it—with Marcus' texts on display—in my face, while giving me an impressive scowl. "Don't ever lie to me, Yuki. Lying brings aspects of me that neither of us wants to see. I don't like being lied to."

"And I don't like being kept in the dark," I muttered, reaching for my phone.

He held it over his head, his eyes icy cold. "I keep you _from_ the dark. Big difference there. I won't tell or show you anything you don't _need_ to know. I do that for you. Don't you trust me?"

That hit me hard. When the roles were reversed—did _I_ trust _him_? Did I trust him enough? The look on my face must have exposed me. I knew he saw right through me when his brows furrowed.

I retrieved my phone. "I should go."

Killua moved swiftly, and I felt him come up behind me. My hand was on the doorknob when his palm slapped against the door, holding it closed. "Turn around. I want to be clear on something before you go," he said tightly in my ear. Spinning, I sagged against the door and briefly wondered if I imagined the wince that crossed his face. "You don't completely trust me, do you?"

Grimness thinned my lips, but they stayed helplessly closed. He didn't want me to lie, and I couldn't. "We're back to square one, Killua. You hiding something from me because you think it's better this way. But it's not. Last time it happened, both of us got clobbered. I just…can't take another round of getting clobbered."

"Secrets are something we can work on; trust isn't. I don't want to give you any reasons to doubt me."

"You're giving me one now," I said, avoiding to look into his eyes. He was standing in front of me, but he seemed miles away. "What kind of hotels calls its guests after midnight to do something like _sign papers_? Can you explain that?"

"I can't, no."

I paused, then switched gears. "Do you _want_ to explain that?"

His jaw tightened. "No."

The flat-out answer made my throat tight. After I spent the morning defending him, bearing to listen to words that were only half-lies, it turned out to be all useless. Sometimes I wanted to believe something so badly, but then I deliberately manufactured excuses and ignored reality. Marcus wasn't completely wrong; I wasn't completely right.

It was kind of like a blow to my ego, really.

I ducked beneath his outstretched arm. "Okay, then. Let me go."

Killua reached out and yanked on the door handle for me, ushering me out. His mask was in place, showing no emotion whatsoever. "Take care. Give me a call and I'll pick you up from wherever you are."

I left. He didn't stop me.

* * *

Minutes later, I was thirty-something floors above the ground, inside one of the preeminent records companies in the country—one that also happened to be owned by Gary. I was sitting by myself at a conference table in his spacious office, eying a catered lunch for two. Nervousness cramped my stomach. I had no reasons to look forward to this lunch. I loved my uncle dearly and knew he loved me back, but my relationship with him was a rocky one. Between his disapproval to almost all my decisions and his perfectionist edge, Gary was a handful. He and I were like night and…later-that-night. Too similar, too incompatible.

Gary came in ten minutes after my arrival, looking distinguished and bossy in a dark, three-piece suit. The soft blue of his tie high-lightened eyes that were exactly like mine. He greeted me with a brisk nod before he moved to sit next to me. No hug, no handshake. That was just how Gary rolled.

_Business. Cut-and-dried._

As we ate, he asked me about my job and what I was up to. He didn't mention my days at the hospital even though I knew he knew all about it. He didn't smother me with anything related to my private life the way a parent would. He didn't talk about himself or delve into any specifics regarding his business. His questions were tentative and reserved, but the tension in the room was still very palpable.

"So…" Gary spoke without looking at me. "When was the last time you saw _him_?"

I tensed at the vague mentioning of my master and prepared myself for the much-expected onslaught. "'Him' has a name."

"And I choose not to pollute the air in my office by saying it out loud."

I resisted rolling my eyes; I wasn't rude enough to do it at my uncle, but the frustration was there. Gary hated my master more than he hated the Zaoldyecks. At first, I thought it was a matter of guardian rivalry, but I recently got the feeling that their issues were much deeper than that, going way back over the years when they were younger. The indisputable dread wasn't something I could change about him. I didn't just get my uncle's eyes; I also got his obstinacy.

Not taking my eyes off of my plate, I tried to remain unaffected by his attempt to bother me. "I saw him few days ago. Only for a couple of minutes, though. You know his busy schedule."

Gary's smile was bitter. "Ah, of course. The mysterious case of the hunter's mind."

That was Gary in a nutshell: sarcastic fury.

"It pleases me, however," he continued, casually digging into his steak, "that you two aren't always in contact. You're better off without him. You _were_ better off without him."

"You know that's not true."

His eyes met mine as he took a sip of his wine, his demeanor casual and non-expressive. When he raked me from head to toe, I knew he was giving me a makeover in his head. Then, he said the words I'd grown so accustomed to hearing over the past five years. "You were a much better person before he came along."

I deflated into my seat, still unaffected. "No. Before he came along, I was the self-destructive, bipolar child who had manic tantrums all the time and wanted nothing but to bring danger to others and herself. Do you still see her somewhere?"

Gary narrowed his eyes. "No, but that's hardly because of _him _and his glories_._ You were ill and trying to overcome a tragedy. Taking you away and pushing you to become a hunter wasn't the most effective healing method. And you know it. What you needed was balance, and that man provided absolutely none. The word balance doesn't even exist in his life dictionary. No balance and no stability. He's irresponsible and unable to control the direction of his life to control a ten year old's."

I spat every anger I carried from this morning into my reply. "At least he'd always been honest with me. His intentions came from a good heart. You need to stop doing this. No matter what you say, that man is someone I'll always excuse and defend."

Gary snorted delicately. "Look at you. Talking just like him. He clearly raised you to be his copycat."

"Well…" I unloaded, my inner bitch unleashed. "At least he raised me better than my parents ever could."

Gary paled. "Your parents were good people."

"If you say so."

His eyes widened with injured shock. "How could you say that? Since when do you talk like that? This is not you."

Teeth gritted, I pushed out of my chair in a rush. "This is the me who finally knows the true meaning of the word _choice_, Gary. My parents dug their own grave when they _willingly_ stained their hands with blood. They _chose _to do it. They chose to put their life on the line when they started to kill for money. Live a dirty life odds are you die a dirty death. My brother paid the price for their mistakes. But I still love them, in my own fucked-up way. You know why? Because I stopped judging people the way you do. There are choices, and there are reasons behind choices, and circumstances behind reasons—"

"It's not good for you to get too emotional," Gary chastised quietly. "Please sit. We'll talk about something else."

I sucked in an unnecessary breath, my eyes drooping. "That man built me from scratch. He accepted me with all my flaws and helped me in every way a person can be helped. I owe him. Big time. If he asked me to go through hell, I'd do it. Why's it so hard for you to understand? I thought you want me to be happy. If you do, then you should never talk shit about him. Not in front of me."

Gary sighed. "You don't know him the way I do. You don't know everything."

Because he never told me. Gary wasn't the only man in my life who held back secrets.

"I know enough."

His scowl was disapproving as he gulped down the rest of his wine and swallowed back the stabbing words he desperately wanted to toss at me. "My driver will be waiting out front to give you a ride to work. We'll talk."

That was Gary's subtle way of kicking me out.

_Business. Cut-and-dried._

This could have gone worse.

On my way out of the company, I saw a black limo idling at the curb for me. With a sigh, I rounded the sleek vehicle and kept walking.

* * *

The rest of my day passed in a blur. Upon entering the Nostrad's Renaissance-style mansion, I shut my emotions behind a glass wall where I was aware of them waiting in the background when my shift was over. I worked hard and focused on my job, using it as a distraction to keep me from thinking too much. The place was flooded with suited men and hunters scattered in every corner of the house. I'd seen Neon for a very quick minute before she disappeared inside her room with a couple of bodyguards and female attendants.

When I had no more mindless entertainment left, I spent the evening in a funk, avoiding calls from Marcus, preferring to mope alone in the Nostrad hallways. The uncontrollable mood was intensified by my lingering frustration with Gary and my more recent aggravation with Killua. What happened this morning left me with so many questions. I knew Killua well enough to believe that whatever it was that he was hiding from me wasn't something bad. Firstly, it's Killua; he wouldn't be putting himself in danger if he tried, and moreover, he would never try. But there were parts of his life that I might never know anything about, and that really, really irritated me.

_No lies and no secrets, my ass._

I bought myself a juice box and decided to wander in the Nostrad mansion. The place was the size of a hotel. So far I'd passed by ten bedrooms, six bathrooms, a bowling alley, a library, solarium, the staff quarters, and a freaking indoor lap pool. I paused at a half-open door. What now, a room full of whips and chains? I peeked my head to see what was inside, and found a massive gym.

I strolled inside, awed by the huge variety of equipments. Full sized swimming pools, a spa, steam rooms, and sports courts and rooms. As I reached the seemingly endless rows of treadmills and machines, I let out a whistle.

"Don't act so surprised," someone's voice echoed through the empty space. It belonged to one of the bodyguards whom I hadn't gotten the chance to meet personally. All I knew was that this was his second year working for the Nostrads. I spotted him in a supine position on a bench press, lifting a bar with a thousand pounds of weight. He spoke to me without interrupting his work-out. "This mansion's like a fricking maze."

"What else they have down here, dungeons and torture chambers?" I scoffed and took another sip of my juice.

The nameless guy chuckled, and I took him in with a quick glance. He was in his late teens, I guessed. Average height and nicely tanned skin. His unruly bronze hair was damp with sweat, his eyes a reddish-brown and his cheeks dotted with faint freckles. "Maybe we can check that out someday. Are you adventurous?" he smiled.

"Immensely."

"Ah, a colleague after my own heart." His broad smile morphed into a snarl as he struggled with the weights. "You here to build some muscles?"

"Nahh. Don't need that."

"Why not? You honestly think Nen is everything?" he asked, highly incredulous. He grunted with each lift of his arms. "It's…not. Your raw physical strength is what gives you an edge against your opponents. You need…to balance the two if you wanna be a good blacklist hunter. Nostrad-san knows this very well. That's…why…he gave us access to this gym. To maintain that balance. If you don't think you've got it all, then you have a lot of catching up to do, sweetheart."

Huh.

Nibbling on the straw of my juice, I walked to stand behind him and over his head. When he brought the dumbbell down, I evilly clamped my hand onto the middle of the bar holding the weights and pushed. He grunted at the exertion, his breath coming out in a whoosh as he tried to lift.

"Holy…crap…" he croaked, pushing with all his might at the bar to keep it from crushing his face. I raised a challenging eyebrow at him, and he groaned. We played push-of-war with the bar for a few seconds before he laughed weakly. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry! You win…just please stop!" He dropped his hands, breathing hard. I lifted the dumbbell and placed it on the rack attached to the chair.

Laughing, the guy reached out to me for a hand up. I gripped his forearm and he yanked him to his feet. "Jeez…that was impressive. I love strong women." He extended his hand, grinning. "Call me Pepper. Or Pep. Or P, if you're brave enough."

I liked his approach. It was direct, like his gaze, and his smile was genuine. Just like that, I felt perfectly at ease. He reminded me of Gon in the way he carried himself with just the right amount of confidence and poise. Watching that was a great energy booster.

I shook his hand and introduced myself.

"Of course." Pepper looked at me with a mischievous grin. "Everybody knows you here. You're the Zaoldyeck girl. Can't say I'm surprised by what just happened. That's the least expected from the girl who landed the unattainable Zaoldyeck."

Oh, god.

"Is that what everybody here thinks?"

Pepper smiled apologetically when he noticed my cringe. "Not everybody. The majority, yeah. This isn't something you see everyday, y'know? A blacklist hunter romancing a wanted criminal. Kinda like Batman and Catwoman. It's huge! Some have written a history for you two. And let me tell you, some stories are, umm, a bit over the top. Like…" He breathed deeply and went for it. "Like some are saying you're just after his money and big name. Others think you're sent by the Zaoldyecks to seduce their rebellious son into submission—submission to them, of course. Some are convinced that you're sent to _literally_ seduce the son because the Zaoldyecks are _dying_ to get you pregnant with—"

"My god, I _beg_ you to stop," I pleaded, gripping his forearm with both hands. With a shudder, I turned on my heel to storm out of the gym. "So in thirty seconds, I've become a con, a sadist, and a whore. Delightful."

Pepper hurried to walk next to me, chattering in my ear. "I know, I know. It's ridiculous. It's like we're in a soap opera episode or something. But… Tell me this, is it true that he's freakishly strong?"

"Who is?"

"The Zaoldyeck dude!"

"Uhh…"

"Is it true that he can crush rocks using just his pinkies?"

"Uhhhh…"

"What's his name?"

I swallowed past my awkwardness. "Killua."

"What a beautifully unique name. Exactly like I'd imagined it'd be," he said, and put a hand over his heart. "Killua. Kill-_ua_. It has such an inner strength, you know? Like a metaphorical stab to the heart. _Killua_. So powerful. So poetic. His name is like a curse word… or a prayer. As if the Hades caves in to him…" At this point, I gave him a strange look. "Oh hey, don't be creeped out; I'm totally gay," he clarified.

"Oh!" I grinned. "Awesome."

"Can I ask you something… kinda unprofessional?" Pepper asked as he followed me down the hallway.

I was both bemused and amused. Though he and I didn't know each other on a personal as professional level, I knew that he'd sure collect himself if I asked him to, so I answered, "Sure."

"I lied, actually. It's not kinda unprofessional. It's _completely_ unprofessional."

"Okay, then. Definitely ask."

Pepper grinned, delighted. As we moved to stand outside Neon's room, he devoted his whole attention to me. "I've been wondering about this my entire life―nearly sixteen years, to be exact―and as the only person that I know and can talk to who's seen him, I _must_ ask you… is Killua Zaoldyeck handsome?"

"Oh. Umm…" I struggled to come up with an answer. A legitimate answer that didn't sound like an understatement but also didn't make _me_ sound like the smitten girlfriend. "He…" The answer was simply yes, absolutely. Despite the paleness of his skin and his frequent, annoying habit of standing far too straight and still, Killua was handsome. I always thought he was, but never really dwelled on it before today. I sighed, feeling like I could admit this to someone other than myself. "Yes, Killua Zaoldyeck is very good looking."

Pepper brightened. "Is he tall?"

"Yeah, somewhere between 5'11 and 6'1, not sure exactly."

"Slim or broad-shouldered?"

"Somewhere in between." I shrugged and quickly added, "He's absolutely _not_ beefy, though."

"Have you seen him without a shirt?" he asked, a little incredulous but also clearly curious.

This question I _really _didn't know how to answer. I had seen Killua with his shirt off, and it wasn't anywhere near disappointing, except it wasn't something I allowed myself to think of often. "I just meant that he's not thin but I think he's… umm… quite, er… muscular."

"Wears a suit well?"

I gave up objectivity. "Very."

"Blonde or brunette?"

"Neither—his hair is white, silvery white."

Pepper's eyes sparkled. "Does he have a good bone structure?"

"Uhh…yes," I said, awkwardly squirming on my legs. "Would make a sculptor weep in joy."

Pepper giggled and I couldn't help but smile at the sound. "Thank you, Yuki."

"Thank me?"

"For the image. In my head." He sighed dreamily. "'Twas perfect. He's definitely the best parts of the mythical creatures that lived on another world."

I laughed, remembering the time when I believed that Killua actually _was_ a mythical creature. "I can help you meet him someday. If you're game."

"Are―are you serious?" His pupils dilated with panic. "You will do that?"

"Sure, why not."

He clasped both my hands. "You're my hero! That'd be a dream come true!" Pepper said happily, his semi-deep voice coming out in a mix of a squeal and a shriek. I'd never seen a grin as wide as his, not even Gon's. "Oh. _Oh_." His eyes went impossibly huge, all of a sudden, as I watched him turn into a sweaty mess. "Oh, god, no. How am I supposed to meet a Zaoldyeck? How do people _do_ that? Oh god, what if he doesn't like me? That surely cannot be good."

My smile widened. I was both bewildered and amused by his silliness. He sounded like a school girl about to meet her favorite pop star. "He's not that bad, Pepper."

His face was filled with worry. "Is he scary?"

I thought about it.

"He's not scary. He's…intense. He either likes people or hates people. And when he hates people…" I took a deep breath. "…Oh boy."

Pepper grimaced and giggled at the same time. "Add that to his extraordinarily appealing physique and _voilà!_ you've got yourself a Zaoldyeck heir."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, you don't know that? It's rumored that the Zaoldyeck heirs all had this astounding, sort of sharp beauty accompanied by a smooth, methodical nature. This nature is what makes them the worst type of killers. They're calm, observing. They exploit vulnerability, get people to trust them, and then, when all the emotions are firmly in place—" he leaned to hiss in my ear "—they _attack_." He laughed jovially when I shivered. "It's also rumored that all of them have the same Nen type," he added in an afterthought.

My thoughts drifted back in time to that murky night when I saw the two white-haired Zaoldyecks outside the auction building, and now with the help of Pepper, I realized what my eyes had betrayed me to see, what the two men resembled—_Killua_.

"Oh, hey! Next time, I can show you my journal if you're interested to know more about the Zaoldyecks. It's actually more of an account of most of their missions and history, as I grew older, it got more detailed and more accurate…and sometimes more like a scrapbook. But it'll have all the dirty facts you need."

I forced a smile. "What are you, the Zaoldyeck Geek?" I joked, to break my own tension.

Pepper smiled, looking sheepish. "I'm just a big fan." Then he rushed to clarify, "_Not_ of their work, though. I think all criminals are scum, naturally, which is why I'm here right now. My fascination with them is strictly platonic."

I laughed and checked my phone. It was nearly midnight; my shift would end soon. Neon was still in her room, bopping to some famous pop music as the song changed from _Bad_ to _Dangerous_. Just as my hand was poised over my phone, I pondered Marcus and Pepper's words. Both of them were polar-opposites—two shoulder devils speaking at the same time, rousing and calming.

My outward skepticism betrayed my inner reaction. Was this _nature_—that seemed, all of a sudden, like much more than a joke—going to follow Killua around all the time? Was it the reason behind all his growing secrets? Would this legacy subject him to the inevitable destiny that had befallen the other heirs? And how severe was the confinement of that destiny?

As _Dangerous_ shifted into _Smooth Criminal_, I determinedly stood and dialed Killua's number.

* * *

When my night shift was over, I ended up lounging in the city's central park—or more accurately, lounging high up on a branch of an old, oak tree.

It was the largest tree, tall enough that its highest boughs reached up and almost touched the clouds as they all slowly swung in the wind. I could see the richly colorful leaves, the drying ones, and a bit of sky. The light flickering through the widely spread branches was ghostly and thin, but otherwise, very peaceful. Here, I could pretend everything was good. I could be anything here.

Looking down at the swings, I let my imagination wander. What would it be like if Killua and I had a normal childhood? How different our lives would be now? Who would we be if we were never acquainted with heartbreak? No bullshit and dark secrets? It was too easy to imagine.

We'd grow up together. Our normal parents would be too busy making money to spend much time with us. We would escape our empty, hollow homes to go to the swings, our favorite place in the world; our home away from house. Our tiny hearts would soar, and our stomachs would somersault as we flung ourselves off the ride, giddy and giggling. We'd read books and pretend we were smart. We'd stay on the swings until the evening so the mighty chief of the town—who'd be our best resemblance to a hero—found us and gave us a ride in his cool cruiser. We'd beg him to flip on the loud squad lights on the car roof, and it'd absolutely _thrill_ us, the way it'd thrill normal kids.

We'd never have to have imaginary friends. We'd have each other, and everything would be just…

…Simple.

"I always knew that deep inside, you're still a six year-old."

A wickedly calm, implacable voice broke me out of my momentary absentmindedness.

Lazily, I peered down the tree where Killua was standing, and felt the ripple of awareness that always told me he was nearby, heightening all my senses. He looked smaller and so far away from me. Standing there with his hands in his pockets, he was unmoving in the moonlight, looking almost invisible in his black attire; black T-shirt, black jeans, soft black boots. It was as if he carried a piece of the night with him, always.

Leaning my head back against the tree, I smiled faintly in spite of myself. "You came."

"Surprised?"

"A little bit," I said flippantly, returning to stare back at the sky but continuing to speak distractedly. "I didn't think you'd know where I'd be sitting."

"I found you once. I'll always find you." He looked at me sharply, dark eyes piercing under the shock of white hair. "What'cha doing up there?"

"I have a lot on my mind."

"Thinking about me?"

"I wish."

I hazarded a look at his too-appealing eyes, and noticed that he looked a little tired. It wasn't as though he could fall prey to dark circles or red eyes in just a few hours, but he looked tired nonetheless. Feeling guilty, I rearranged my position until I was perched among the spreading branch and told him, "I'm sorry about this morning. I know who you are, and I trust you. I really do…" I paused as our eyes met. Something passed between us then with that small admission. It made it easier for me to say what came next. "But your past scares me, Killua."

"Don't give it that power."

"I won't." I bit my lip. "But…"

Killua cut me off irritably. "Before you say anything, will you pretty please get down here? Firstly, this is getting annoying. Secondly, my neck started to cramp. And lastly, I want to see you."

"You _can_ see me."

"Fine. I want to touch you. Get the hell down."

"Tch."

I flung myself forward.

Though the cat-like landing I thought I'd have never happened, and my feet didn't hit the ground. Instead, I fell right_ onto_ Killua's outstretched arms.

Shock froze my breath. Every train of thought I had disappeared, and my senses went right on recording; dark eyes dominating my field of vision, a whiff of some kind of sinfully sweet scent, strong arms holding me up. I felt weightless then; light as if I were a dandelion fluff, and a little light-headed as well, almost tipsy.

"You caught me," I said lamely.

He gave me a little wry sideways smile. "Surprised?"

"No." I knew he would always catch me. I knew I could _trust him_ to always catch me. But I could still feel the uncertainty that was fed by the devilish voices I'd been hearing all day. "No. But…"

"No buts. You're questioning everything and driving yourself crazy." The hardness of his arms melted beneath me, and I was set back on my feet. I didn't say anything; just stood there and looked up at him. Catching me by the waist, he lifted me and sat me down one of the swings, before he knelt on one knee in front me. "I wanna show you something," he said, suddenly serious. "Hold out your palm."

In a demonstration of how far we'd come, I extended my hand readily, even if it was accompanied by a suspicious glance. But Killua was in one of his rare somber moods and simply pressed his hand underneath mine, while his free one rested above mine in the air, one finger extended. A spark of electricity erupted, right in my palm, from the tip of his forefinger, and I gasped as it didn't burn me, though it seemingly emanated from my flesh.

"Don't worry," he said softly. "It won't hurt you." But he didn't need to say that—I already knew it wouldn't. Despite his ultimate intentions to smother my mind to the point of no return, he had not once harmed even one hair on my head.

I almost didn't want to speak, in fear of interrupting whatever the silence might have been saying, because he had a point and he wanted to make it.

"I was taught that my life would always be like this current; if I'm not connected to my roots—" The electric spark began to shrink, desperately sucking at the limited strength he was affording. "Then I can't exist." Our eyes watched as the spark, once so grand in its silver rays and blue anger, withered away into nothingness, leaving not a trace that it ever existed.

"I proved them all wrong when I built my resistance, and cut every wire that linked me to their world. But…" he said tightly, trailing off. I placed my hand in his, and appreciated the reassuring squeeze he gave me. He looked down at our joined hands as he continued, "But no matter who knows that about me, and whether or not I share that information, it's a part of me that I can never forget." He spoke from the heart, his words seemingly as much of a realization to himself as an entreaty to me.

"I used to wonder if I can ever truly leave that part of my life behind, but such dark things don't fade with time—they just reverberate through the years. And whether I like it or not, I have to live with them." There was a brilliant depth of emotions in his eyes when he looked at me. "But _you_ don't. I don't—I _can't _let you in when it comes to this. You wanna know what's in my secrets? It's that world of theirs. It's everything you have to stay away from. I _need_ to keep you as far away as possible from everything related to that world. You have to trust me on this."

"Trust goes both ways."

His gaze sharpened. "There's no one I trust more than you and Gon. I don't want to tell you not because I don't trust you, but the more people that knew, the more real everything became. And you shouldn't be involved in my mess anymore. That's not what you want."

Swinging myself slightly back and forth, I stared at our hands and whispered, "I want all of you."

"You have me. I'm yours."

I shook my head. "Not every part."

"Only because I don't want you to see those parts." He raised our hands to his face and kissed mine. "Please don't make me."

I nodded, no longer sure of what I hoped to get out of him. My thoughts had been all over the map all day; I couldn't decide how I felt about anything. "So I don't need to know where you were last night."

"No, you don't."

I nodded again, feeling too emotionally invested to argue. Tracing the place on my palm where the electric spark had wilted, I asked, "Do I want to know how you transmuted your aura into electricity?"

He pushed the seat of my swing with the tips of his fingers, rocking me back and forth with a gently soothing rhythm. "Probably not."

"Good. Because I'd get angry."

"I know."

"_Really_ angry."

That made his mouth quirk up slightly.

"I'm not kidding, Killua. I hate your family's fucking guts. I can't think of what they did to you without feeling violent."

"Then don't think about them. You don't have to. They're out of my life. For good. And I'm—" He interrupted himself to heave a long breath. "Look, I'm tired. This whole search for Gon's father isn't getting any easier. I'm edgy and restless. I can't focus on so many things right now. I need to know we're good before we go home."

I frowned. No wonder why he looked exhausted. "How's Gon doing?"

"He's good. Today was another waste. His father keeps jumping all over the place, but we're finding a way to get closer." He took my hand and got to his feet. "Come on now. Let's go."

I tugged hesitantly at his hand as we made our way out of the park. "I'm gonna sleep at my apartment tonight. We _are_ good, but I can't stay at the suite three nights in a row. I don't live there."

"Fine. I'm going to be busy tomorrow anyway." He paused. Then with his eyes staring straight ahead, he asked, "What did Sherlock want this morning?"

"Marcus? Pshh. He was just checking."

Killua frowned. "Why, doesn't he have any other detective friends of his own?" he grumbled, looking distant and controlled, which was when I knew he was at his most dangerous. "What did he say?"

"Eh, not much," I replied with a shrug. "Basically, he said you're a disaster."

That earned me a smirk. "Tell me something I don't know."

* * *

The apartment was just as I'd left it; shadowed and unoccupied. Once I closed the door, it settled into its familiar silence, both comforting and depressing.

Just as I was about to hit the shower, my phone pinged with a text. From Killua.

_See, I can text too. Ditch all your "friends" and text me instead._

I laughed and shook my head. Sometimes he had troubles letting some things go.

I replied, _Like you ditched just now?_

After he'd escorted me home, he had no choice but to leave. I wanted so badly to invite him in, but neither of us was ready for this. Admittedly, I was afraid of seeing him inside this apartment—especially my room—might change things. Or worse, change him.

But despite all of that, I was disappointed enough to type: _I couldn't even say good night to you alone._

Two seconds later, I got his reply. _You wanted to give me an alone good night?_

I swear to god, the font of the message should be called 'smug'.

___Well, since I'm not going to see you for at least ten hours…_ yeah.  


He replied,_ What did this alone good night involve?_

I smirked. Deciding to be a little evil, I wrote, _Nothing that can be texted._

He didn't reply for a minute or two.

_Oh, beastie, you're killing me. _

Throwing my phone on my bed, I stripped out of my clothes and jumped in the shower. Under the warm spray, I felt spent, both physically and emotionally. I hadn't done enough resting. Sleep-deprivation and my usual neuroses didn't mix up very well.

Wrapping myself in one of my robes, I got out of the shower, turned off all the lights of the apartment and went to the small-ass closet to change. I was about to untie the belt of my robe when I felt the unmistakable creepy-crawly feeling of being watched. The little hairs on the back of my neck stood up. That was it; something was watching me from behind. The midnight sky overhead was not black but smoky gray and opaque, riddled with more stars than any other night.

The air coming from the open window was stifling, and I felt, more certain than anything, that there were eyes on me.

Turning slowly around, I came face-to-face with _it_.

It was an eagle, over my windowsill. And it was the thing watching me.

It was the biggest eagle I'd ever seen, plump and sleek, with golden shining in its brown feathers. I could see every detail of it clearly: the greedy dark claws, the sharp peak, the single glittering black eye. It was so motionless that it might have been a wax model of a bird sitting there on my window. But as I stared back at it, I felt myself swallow involuntarily, heat coming in waves up my throat and cheeks. Because it was…looking _into_ my eyes. Staring at me with its bright, black eye, an almost human stare.

Tightening the belt of my robe, I walked over to the window. From my five-year experience in the wild and the waking hours I spent with the birds of prey, I was sure the golden eagle was male, at least, which was more than most people could know from a first glance. He merely watched me approaching, not faltering or flinching like normal birds did. The first time his eyes met mine, I knew that there was nothing natural about that eagle.

Looking into his eyes for approval, or perhaps permission, I carefully lifted a hand to his beak. The eagle made no move to harm my fingers, perhaps because I was probing my aura to be as soothing as possible, or maybe because he wasn't in the mood to hunt.

Frozen still on the windowsill, he nuzzled against my palm, and stepped up nicely onto my forearm, which meant that someone had trained him a little to be superior to any of his creatures, and that was all the assurance I needed to study him a bit more closely.

And it was when I saw why he was here.

My eyes caught the thin, short parchment that was attached to the bird's leg by a piece of tied, red chord. Cautiously, despite my rational brain telling him that this was not normal, I untied the chord and pulled the parchment free.

Not even a second later, the eagle flapped his wings powerfully. It gave a raucous cry and flew away. His work here was done.

I staggered back a few steps, my heart pounding. Anticipation and gun-gnawing fear ran wildly through my veins. I straightened up slowly, then glanced around, self-conscious. Now that the bird was gone, the sky felt ordinary again. A little wind made the curtains flutter, and I took a deep breath.

With trembling fingers, I unrolled the rather official-looking parchment to reveal the mystery that lay inside.

It was a short letter; only few verses long, written in a very neat, elegant hand with black ink, but with no address and no signiture. The handwriting was beautifully bold and cultured, swirling over the discolored paper. The beauty of it almost distracted me completely from the content.

Once I started reading, all hell broke loose.

My hand started shaking.

Blood drained from my face, and there was a dull roaring in my ears.

I felt dizzy, disoriented.

The blaring sound of my ringtone made me jump. I answered my phone without looking at the caller ID, and heard Killua's voice.

"Busted. I know everything," he said, and I stiffened, my breath catching audibly. His words came so soon after the letter. "That's my punishment. That's why you wanted to stay at your apartment. To torture me from a distance?"

Relief was so sudden and complete it felt painful.

The sounds of cars honking their horns from the window, the hum of the heating system in the room, and the sloppy shouts of drunk passersby all faded into a steady buzzing in my ears. There was a flurry of activity happening around me and my brain couldn't process it. I had a sense of retreating down an endless tunnel, my reality shrinking to a tiny black point.

"…Yuki? What's wrong?" Killua asked, his voice softening with worry. He was just too perceptive.

I knew I was breathing too fast and my speeding pulse rate was dangerously high. In a distant part of my brain, I registered that there were thousands of people just down the window, going about their lives without a clue that another human being in this apartment was dealing with a catastrophic event.

Killua was insistent. "Is everything okay? Tell me what's wrong."

_Tell him?_ Just the thought sent a violent shiver through me.

He said, "Wait for me. I'm coming back to get you."

"No!" I said too loudly. My chest ached, because I did want him to be here right now more than anything. "Don't. I'm fine. It's just…"

My fingers clenched in the parchment.

_Don't ever lie to me, Yuki._

Still… "Don't worry." I'd never put as much feeling into those two words as I did then. I knew I was about to make one my biggest mistakes when I told him, "Nothing's wrong."

I opened the bedside drawer and slipped the letter there, hiding it away from everyone.

* * *

**A/N: **And then there's _that _… Tsk, tsk.

We are now reaching another critical (or the final) point of the story; please bear with me. If I made a mistake, don't be afraid/shy to point it out. I love emotionally charged chapters, but they take a lot out of me.

I'll say nothing more but: Review.

Next update, April? Sooner? I have a lot of stuff going on but I can manage to squeeze out an update. So …let me know.


	38. Strings Attached

**A/N: **You guys, you're all sensational. 'Nuff said. Your reviews made my days. I loved reading your reactions and theories as to what exactly is going on. You all get a Computer-Five. Yes, I really high-fived my computer right then. You should too. I know when you don't comp five!

Special thanks to my argumentative reviewers. You're so cool and definitely my favorite. Too bad most of you are anonymous. Just know that you rock.

Thanks to _KiGaMi99_, who supports and protects me and this story like a mama bear. She's like my own personal, real-life Yuki.

**WARNING: **This chapter contains implied sexual content. Nothing explicit or beyond PG-13, though. If you've survived Killua's suggestive jokes, you'll be fine. But if you have a problem with semi-mature themes, feel free to skip the first flashback.

* * *

**_39. Strings Attached_**

* * *

_The red numbers on the bedside table read 23:55. _

_Sitting on the edge of the bed, Killua propped his chin on his knuckles and held his phone horizontally for a better view. Hooded eyes glued to the screen, he stared at the map before his eyes. __A map that was sprinkled with lots and lots of red dots, __cluttering the roads __on the map that spread_ like _veins_. He tried to make sense of what he was saying. At some point, the red dots made a trail, only to scatter around later in the most random way. He sighed in frustration as he zoomed in. The dots stood out like bloodstains; annoying and stubborn.  


_Just like the man they signified._

_It took him five years to be able to find that man on the map. Who knew how long it was going to take him to find the man for real? W__ho knew how long he was going to play the connect-the-dots game?_

_If only he knew how that man's mind worked…._

_With a soft groan, Killua put the phone down. He willed his eyes to move around the foreign, messy room he was in, his gaze tracing the edges of the posters and photographs tacked up against the wall. __Books and girly magazines were thrown every and anywhere. Clothes were all over the floor. Some of them were his. He probably needed to put them back on and leave. It was getting late. York Shin's August's soothing midnight breeze was wandering in __through the window and_ creeping into his bare skin.  


_The bedsheets rustled, and then a__ girl in her late teens was scuttling closely behind him. __He felt her body—he couldn't even remember her name—he felt it pressed to his back, warm and earnest. _The chill he'd been fighting for past three hours filled his stomach; his bowels clenched.

_Leaning forward and rubbing his tense shoulders, she peeked over his shoulder before she cooed her guess. "Ging Freecs?" _

_Killua lifted his phone to his eyes once again, the screen staring blankly back at him, taunting him with the scattered dots. "He's followed a certain trail for five years," he thought out loud, "he was mostly located __in the_ western section, centered around certain hamlets of some islands and mountain ranges. His trail has always been clear and steady before his big leap into York Shin. According to this map, he's been very careful to not step foot into a crowded place before… so what was he doing here? Either he's doing it in purpose to confuse us, or he's doing something unpredictable."  


_"Don't rely too much on what I told you," the girl replied with a shrug. "The Hunter Committee is very secretive about Ging, in an attempt to avoid any information leaking out about any of the Zodiacs. In all the years I've worked there, nobody has ever mentioned Ging's name in more than one sentence. I was very careful about my choice of words; Ging _could_ be in York Shin. Nobody knows for sure, not even the reliable source who gave me this info. The best thing you can do right now is go to Los Selegna; that friend of mine could find a way to help you since he saw Ging in person. I told him to expect you soon. You have nothing to lose."_

_Running a hand over his face, Killua sighed. He was staring at the posters again, attempting to make meaning out of the swirls of this mystery._

_Ging Freecs was a very, very stubborn man. He spent the last five years running away from his son. Attempted to drive him insane for the sake of his peace of mind. Ging made sure to succeed every time, leaving them with crashed hopes and runaway wins. He was rather sending them on a wild-goose chase._

_Frustrating, but it only made the challenge even more delicious. Only added more to the spine-tingling rush of the hunt._

_Snapped rudely out of his train of thoughts, Killua repressed a shudder when the girl nuzzled down his neck. "So what now? What do you wanna do now? Wanna stay here and figure it out? Or do you need some__…_distractions?" she drawled. 

_Killua shuddered. Her lustful voice was like a winch around his spine. Her soft touch made his skin crawl unpleasantly._

_But he played along; this was his game after all. Girls like her annoyed him, however. He wondered if they really believed half the bullshit that came out of his mouth. He knew he didn't. Girls like her told him what he wanted to hear, accepted the price he wanted to pay. If he told them he loved to kill kittens, they'd tell him they loved it, too._

_"Ging must have left," she continued, "so what are you still doing in York Shin? Are you staying for the upcoming annual auction?"_

_"No. Tomorrow's my friend's engagement party."_

_"Ooh," she squealed, bouncing on her knees, "can I come?"_

_Killua gave a little snorting laugh. "Of course not," he said, checking his schedule for tomorrow on his phone._

_"Why not? It'd be fun," she purred seductively in his ear. "We could dance…" Her body was suddenly flush against his back, one hand at his bicep. The other hand forced its way greedily down his chest. "And maybe later we could sneak out for some quality time…"_

_Killua closed his eyes against the sudden wave of sickness that twisted his guts. "No," he grunted softly. His hand moved to her wrist to still her movement. "I'm leaving."_

_The girl was confused. "Ehh, what's your deal?" she burst out as he backed out of her arms and off the bed, ignoring her mutters of protest. "You're so hot and cold, hot and cold…." She pouted prettily as she watched his retreating back, then ground out her next words. "You're driving me crazy."_

_He scoffed, reaching for his pants and pulling them back on._

_The girl stretched along the bed, displaying an admittedly nice body. "I know you were just using me to get information about Ging Freecs," she said. Her voice was empty from any traces of remorse or chastisement; full of careless indifference._

_He twisted his face into an arrogant sneer. "Good. You're not as dumb as I thought you were." He fastened his fly and then faced her. "I didn't use you. This had been mutually beneficial."_

_The girl smirked. She couldn't deny what he said. She benefited all right. She benefited quite well._

_As much as this kind of girls annoyed him, he hated to use them. He was taught that everything had a price. He _believed_ that everything had a price. And so he gave back, he gave back just enough. Enough to elevate his heart rate slightly; enough to gloss his skin with a touch of sweat._

_"You didn't have to do that, though," she crooned, smoothing the white sheets with her hand and wiggling her eyebrows, "I would have given you everything you wanted to know without anything in return…."_

_"Huh," Killua said in mock disbelief. "So you _are_ that dumb."_

_She shrugged noncommittally, not really as humiliated as she should have been. It wasn't as if she didn't know what a huge asshole he was. It was practically written all over his face.  
_

_Suddenly, she chuckled derisively. "Remember about my talent, the one I told you about last night? How I can read people very thoroughly? I really can… and you know what… I don't buy this whole 'I'm-all-tough-and-cold' façade of yours."_

_Killua tensed. His brow was furrowed; his eyes were wary. "What?"_

_The girl got to her feet and visibly preened, with one hand on her hip. "You heard me. I don't buy your crap. It's not convincing. Especially when it's coming from a guy who's practically living for others. What, are you denying it? Do you even have anything to live for except this impeccable need to help Ging Freecs' son? Perhaps you're doing it to make yourself feel like you've accomplished something in your life with this forward momentum, when in reality, you're really not achieving anything. At least not something that could get you anywhere. You can pretend you have somewhere to go, or that you have someone to go to. That someone somewhere in this shit city cares enough to want you around. But really, do you really believe it? No, you don't. Deep inside you know you don't." She took few steps to stand in front him, a challenging look on her face that caused him to jut his chin up in a classic defensive manner._

_"You know that you're nothing but a sad bastard who's just making amends for whatever the wrongs he's done in the past. Who lives to make people safe and happy, but never himself. Who distances himself emotionally just so no one else knows what on his mind, because then they will run away from him, screaming. You're emotionally unavailable, and so emotionally damaged that it's so easy to break you down. It's all written on your face. Your loneliness is like a cinderblock lashed to your back."_

_Killua's eyes flashed, his lips pursed. It was the first time in his life that he seriously considered killing a girl for a personal reason. He wanted to reach for her neck and snap it between his unforgiving fingers. He wanted to make her life a living hell._

_Instead, he masked his anger very well. "Wow. Very insightful character analysis." His mouth curled with his best self-satisfied smirk. "Truly. It was the best part of my night."_

_The girl gasped sharply at the implied insult. He heard her spit all sorts of obscenities as he snatched his T-shirt from the floor and stormed out the room. His smirk faded with every step he took. It was only later, when he slammed the apartment door shut behind him and exhaled a deep breath, that he registered the hollow ache in his chest._

* * *

The suite was quiet when I arrived at 11pm after my shift ended. I was groggy and grumpy the entire day. I'd kill for a quick shower and my bed, but Killua's painfully brief text: _"Emergency. Come here ASAP" _made me change my plans. As I walked down the bedrooms hallway, I decided to trudge toward my shower when I heard that Killua was already in the midst of his own.

Forcing myself to settle in as if I belonged there, I went to my room down the hall. I locked the door and stripped off my clothes on the way to the shower. I turned the water on as hot as I could stand it and sank numbly to the floor of the stall.

I was on Day Three After Eagle-With-Parchment Night: Round Two feeling like the scaredy cat that curled in a darkened corner, too frightened to face the world and herself.

I was glad the past two days went by in a total blur. I had been, once again, using work as a sedative. I'd taken extra shifts, worked extra hard, even if my heart wasn't in it. I had done everything that could help me slide into the autopilot mode of self-preservation that would get me through the days ahead. I had to keep moving forward, even if I no longer knew the direction I was heading into. I only knew that I was waiting for something to happen, and nothing would bring me back any peace of mind until I found out what that _something_ was.

Waiting was tantalizing. It tormented me with the anticipation of what was to come, sending me into a treacherous game of '_What am I supposed to do until then?_' It made me do anything and everything to help distract my mind.

Waiting was dangerous. It drove me crazy with hope or despair. The not knowing was the most excruciating part of patience; the catalyst to shady decisions and inevitable mistakes during the most treacherous situations.

Waiting was emotional. It consumed my mind and ate slowly at my body. It kept me up at night and exhausted me during the day. It made me moody and spiteful and caused me to isolate myself from those I wanted to be with the most.

Waiting was bullshit.

I had been down that road too many times. The road of running into countless of thoughts and emotions that varied from mindless denial to inexplicable terror. I knew I could so easily fall back into my old self-destructive habits to dull the pain of being too much inside my head.

I had to hang on. Get through. Get by. One step at a time.

Finished with my shower, I changed quickly into a pair of sweats and decided to crawl into my enormous bed after I find out what Killua's 'emergency' was. Knowing him, it was probably a not-too-subtle way to get me to sleep at the suite tonight. Ever since I'd made the mistake of telling him that the reason why I acted weird on the phone that night was because of my old apartment, he'd been trying to find random excuses for me to sleep over at the suite.

I couldn't tell him about my thoughts and feelings regarding that letter—_yet_. I could blame my ever-present fear of loss for that. I was too afraid to risk upsetting the delicate balance between us. Too much of a coward to drop a bomb on this little peaceful land that we worked so hard to be able to _just_ wobble on—especially when I wasn't even sure _what_ that bomb could be. As much as I wanted to share what I was thinking and feeling, I was equally hesitant. After all, I'd always been a person who avoided talking about anything personal for years. He couldn't blame me for being who I was, just as I couldn't blame him for not wanting to cut himself open and let all the ugliness spill out.

We were still approaching each other as if each of us was breakable. Still learning how to work on cultivating our trust again, both in ourselves and in each other. He was still learning to let me in; I was teaching myself to accept all of him.

Whatever that letter meant, it'd rock the boat and shake us even more, in one way or another. I could handle the shaking by myself 'till I figured out how bad the situation was. Just for now.

Thinking before taking any big steps was progress for me. Exhausting, mind-fucking progress.

Needing distraction and some peace _from_ my mind, I got out of my room and headed to Killua's.

"Hey, I got your text. What's the emergency?" I was saying once I stormed in his room… then jerked to an abrupt halt at the unexpected sight before me. Every muscle in my body froze when I was confronted with a wide-eyed Killua in just a towel, slung indecently low on his hips, as he ran a hand through his wet hair. "I—I'm sorry. I… I… didn't know…" I babbled incoherently. "I didn't… know you… had a… body…."

That was a lie. Clearly, I knew he had a body. Not only that, but I knew just what _type_ of body he had, remembered it well, and recalled it more often in my head than I'd admit, even to myself.

I remembered the taut leanness of his back, and the firm muscles of his shoulders and forearms, saturated with water from his shower. I was aware there was a brutal vein, startlingly green, visible under his skin all the way from the back of his left palm, up his forearm, biceps and shoulder that stopped at his collarbone. And the scars. They were smooth, completely flat, faintly pinkish-white and ivory in the gloom. Because they were old, but they still seemed mean, and they were worn with thorough indifference: something in their color that suggested time-lessness.

This was _so_ not the distraction I was looking for.

_This is bad_. _Very, very bad._

Killua stared back at me, eyebrows raised in surprise, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, carefully, shifting his weight.

"Like what?" I didn't ask him so much as I asked his chest.

"Like you want to spank me," he clarified.

My tongue tried to choke me at this point. "Well, you… you just think that… not allowed… I mean you… you… You!" I stammered, my voice sharply high-pitched and accusatory. Blinking out of my haze of incredulity, I wobbled on my feet, almost running face-first into the coat rack as I scrambled across the room. I clumsily snatched the T-shirt and pants he'd laid on his bed and threw them at his head. "You! How incredibly _cliché_ of you! Put something on, for God's sake!"

He caught the clothes with one hand and lowered them slightly so his face popped into view. He glanced down at himself and shrugged. "You're the one who barged in here without knocking."

"Well, _excuse me_, but my daily subscription to indecent, half-naked guys in every room ran out this month!" I burst out, not looking at him. Not right now. Looking at him could happen later. Very later. Way in the future. Maybe in years. I was nearly panting and flushed, when all I'd done was just look. "…Just put something on, please?"

"…All right, all right," he said, and held his pants up. Just as he was about to untie the knot of his towel, he stopped. Looking back at me, he smirked and made a circle gesture with his finger for me to turn around.

"Freaking hell," I groaned, pivoting to face the wall. _Why not just change in the bathroom and stop being a massive, merciless Yuki-torturer?_

_Asshole_.

Ten seconds later, he reassured me that it was safe to turn back and I did, the vibe between us easily summed up in two words: awkward and amused—awkward for me, amused for him. And Killua, quite pleased with my gaping, babbling reaction to him, wasn't ready to let it go so easily.

He puffed out his still bare chest—damn it—and flashed me the Devil smile. "Let's just get it out in the open—so you saw me in a towel. It's okay. It's nothing you're not allowed and privileged to ponder."

I responded by popping the bubble of the gum I was chewing loudly in his face as I walked past him, needing the distance.

"You can say it, y'know? 'Killua is insanely attractive.' Say it, Yuki. The truth will set you free."

I didn't say anything, just rolled my eyes and cleared my throat and impressively rearranged my expression into one of indifference in a split second, beating down my first instinct to blush and be embarrassed. But, due to his enjoyable ego boost, Killua was extra playful this evening and refused to let it go.

"If you're that embarrassed, we can always even the score. Next time, _you_ come out in just your towel."

"Killua…" I warned.

"Yuki," he intoned with a smile.

I crossed my arms and frowned at him. "What's the emergency?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean 'what do you mean'?"

He grinned. "What do you mean 'what you do mean what do you'—"

"No, no." I held up one finger to stop him. "No being cute. Answer me. Your text. You said there's an emergency."

"Ah, that." He pulled his T-shirt over his head. "Gon and I are getting off the ground tomorrow. We have something to take care of in Los Selegna. I want you to stay in the suite until we come back on Tuesday."

"Wait, what?" I asked, blinking. "Why so last minute?"

"Actually, we were supposed to be there a month ago, but I kept postponing it. I can no longer do that; it's now or never. Gon's father is really putting us through the wringer, and there's someone there who may know something about him. If this trip goes well, we may find some clues. Maybe."

"And you'll be gone for _six_ days?"

"Yes, unfortunately."

"And you're leaving…"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Oh." Scowling, I sauntered over to the dresser and hopped onto it, curling my fingers around the lip and swinging my legs. When I remembered The Letter issue I still had, it occurred to me that this might be fortunate after all. Though half-heartedly, I had to accept that I still needed to find clues myself, and this might be a good chance for me to use these six days to do something productive. Maybe I'd be able to move freely once he was away. Not that he was strangling me or anything, but his absence would make me feel less guilty about going for any adventure that didn't include him. It was time to finally have my field day now.

"Listen to me." Killua walked over to stand before me, his looming height forcing me to tilt my head up to him. "While I'm gone, no funny business," he warned with a hard edge to his voice. "You better behave. I don't want the 'when the cat goes away, the mice will play' attitude. Got it?"

_Jeez. He's creepy.  
_

I got an irrational, unfounded fear all of a sudden that my mind was pathetically transparent to him. Trying not to look or sound too suspicious, I twisted this with a joke, shrugging with a grin. "I'm gonna need to be a bad girl though."

His brows shot up. "You don't wanna try that, beastie." He popped the next bubble of my gum with a quick jab of his finger. "Remember, bad girls get punished."

A delicious thrill rushed through me. "Well then. Maybe I should be really bad, and make the punishment worth it."

He growled. "Wait for me to come back and be bad with me."

I laughed, jumping off the dresser and bumping my shoulder with his as I passed him. "I was kidding."

His arms crossed, his brows drawn together in a frown. "Come with us on this trip."

Rolling my eyes, I dropped myself on his bed. "I'm not a baby in a hot car. I can stay by myself without playing with matches or accepting candy from strangers. Besides, I've signed a contract with one of the most-respected Mafia leaders in the country. If I leave the city, I'm either going to get fired or thrown in jail."

He exhaled. "Whatever. Just don't act on this appetite for destruction that you have. At least until I come back."

Groaning, I buried my face in the pillow. I needed a deep, dreamless sleep, so I could wake up in a condition to figure out what I needed to do.

The dimming of the lights and the feel of Killua's arms forced my eyes open. Sliding behind me, he shifted me onto my side, and then the heat of his body was warming my back. One of his muscular arms wrapped around my waist, tucking me close, while the other cradled my head.

"…Is there anything you want to tell me?" he murmured. His ridiculously sharp perception never ceased to amaze me.

"No." I closed my eyes, sinking into the protective hardness of his body. "But maybe later…."

"Okay. Sleep now."

Spooned with him, the biceps of his other arm hard beneath my cheek, I slid into unconsciousness.

* * *

The next morning, I was being woken up by insistent knocks on the bedroom door, around five am. I didn't even know being awake at five am, even on a workday, was a possibility for me. I dragged myself grudgingly out of Killua's bed. When I yanked the door open, I found him and his shit-eating grin in the hallway.

"Hey," he greeted me.

He was the opposite of me right now—showered, fresh, alert. Might as well add attractive, awake, and human to that list because I was none of those either.

"Why did you wake me up? And why the hell are you knocking on your bedroom door?" I asked in a sort of zombie-like voice. I was not very pleasant in the morning.

Killua noticed and grinned, shameless. "To get you out of bed. I brought you coffee and doughnuts." He held up a bag bearing the name of my favorite breakfast place that I never go to because it was tucked away in the corner of the city and nearly always had a line. My eyes widened—well, as much as they were going to at this hour—as I snatched the cup and bag from him. He laughed at my enthusiasm. "I figured that was the Yuki Kudo equivalent of a bouquet."

I told him he knew me too well and thanked him, yawning through it.

"C'mon, get back in bed. I'm sorry to wake you up. I just had to see if there was any chance you'd give me my 'alone good_bye_' before I leave," he said, taking the food and dumping it on the dresser. I gave him as much of a glare I could through my squinting eyes, and he laughed before he said, "Trust me, that idea went right out the window when I saw your face."

As he walked me back to bed with his hands on my shoulders, I asked, "You guys are leaving now?"

"Yes."

I fell face first back into bed and attempted to speak through my yawn. "I'll come to the airport with you."

"No, stay here."

"I _want_ to come to the airport with you—"

"_Yuki_. No," he said firmly as he pulled the sheets over me and tucked me in. I was not so sleepy that the gesture didn't charm me. "Stay here. Eat my candy, use my shower, and rub yourself all over my sheets. That'd make me very happy."

I nodded into the pillow and turned my head so he could hear me better. "I hate this. Your bestfriend's father has to have a screw loose, and I have to spend six days without you."

Killua smiled, leaning down to kiss my forehead. "I should go now. Don't stop thinking about me."

I nodded, mumbling, "Bye. Go get 'em."

I kept my eyes shut as I heard him moving about, feeling like an ostrich; if I couldn't see him leaving, it wasn't going to happen.

The bedroom door closed behind him, and the front door of the suite closed shut a short time later. I threw the upper my body on his pillow, hugging it tightly.

I missed him already.

On the nightstand, my phone buzzed with a new text.

_You miss me already, don't you? The feeling is mutual & I'm still in the elevator. Go back to sleep. Keep my bed warm for me while I'm gone._

I smiled and snuggled into his side of the bed, inhaling what was left of his smell.

* * *

I drummed my fingers along the armrest of Marcus' office chair and waited for him to form a reaction. Or hopefully, a useful deduction.

He grunted loudly. "What in God's name is '_the lost night_' supposed to mean?"

"I have no idea."

This had been going on for a while now. since I'd snapped a picture of the mysterious parchment and showed it to Marcus three days ago. I was hoping he'd help me out, but he'd done nothing but whine about certain words or verses written in The Letter, and how confusing they sounded to him, the detective extraordinaire. He assumed that since it was sent to me, I'd know what they meant. I didn't.

The content of The Letter wasn't the issue that worried me the most. At least not yet.

"God, it's been four days," Marcus complained, throwing his phone on the office desk, his brows furrowed in anger. "Four days and no clues. Nothing. Every day, we meet up, stare at a goddamn fancy paper—and nothing. We do more staring—nothing. Even more staring—_nothing_. NADA! I'm telling you, Yuki, it's a prank. A joke. No, it can't be a joke. Jokes are supposed to make you laugh, even the bad ones. But this… this… this makes no sense. It's like a meaningless jumble of words put together, with no purpose whatsoever."

"Nice. Rant some more. That'd give us the answers," I muttered dryly, absentmindedly flipping through a folder filled with articles and printed images related to _some_ of The Letter's phrases. It was all the research we'd done so far. I leaned back into the chair and got lost in a maze of twisty little passages. Every word in that letter had a hidden meaning. Looking for that meaning didn't help. Not when that particular word met another word and created an even more complicated phrase. And when the phrases met to create a mind-numbingly confusing sentence…

I rubbed my eyes. _This is going nowhere_.

"I have this insane idea. I think I can get something out of '_double-starred knights_,'" Marcus announced, and my ears perked up. "'Double starred' leads to two stars. And since both knights are double-starred, means both knights are alike. So, two stars leads to isosceles angles. Isosceles angles lead to a triangle. Which predictably leads to a pyramid. But that could lead you to a bunch of religious slash political bullshit that has nothing to do with anything. Because the top—which tops the two angles of the pyramid signifies the Eye of Providence, the eye that sees everything and knows everything. The hell? No idea. I also don't know what '_knights'_ is supposed to mean. Perhaps 'knight' symbolizes God? Satan? But why's it plural? Also no idea."

"Okay, I asked for answers not more riddles," I grumbled. I'd been in one of my bratty moods all week, and all I wanted to do was pick a fight.

Marcus exhaled, tapping his chin. Then after a thoughtful pause, he said, "Maybe '_the lost night_' means the night which memories are forgotten. You know, lost. Gone. Wandered away. Someone wants you to remember something about a certain night."

I raised my eyes to his, speculating. What did _that_ mean—

"Something doesn't quite add up, you know? It seems to me that this letter was written by a kid. A kid with a damn gorgeous handwriting." Marcus spun the screen of his computer to show me a zoomed-in picture of The Letter. "As you can see, the person who wrote it is kind of jumping from one topic to another with little, or no, forewarning, which _all_ are indistinguishable. But at the same time, it's obvious that he/she is trying to deliver only _one_ message, but they're using the most confusing way. Kind of like when you ask a kid to write about how much he loves his mother, and he sort of randomly starts talking about how much he loves cookies and certain dishes and bedtime stories, when they are all related to the same topic—his mother. See what I mean?"

"So whoever wrote this is deliberately trying to confuse me."

"Kinda." Marcus heaved out a sigh. "The other day…I remembered this one thing, but I don't know if it means anything…"

"What thing?"

He breathed in deeply before saying, "Before our fathers' falling out, few months before your family's assassination, your father called my father one night and informed him that he'd received a blackmail letter. Your father was shaken and frantic. The only thing my father got out of what he was trying to say was that the blackmail letter was seemingly written by a kid."

My fingers clenched in my lap; my heart pounded. "Coincidence," I said hoarsely.

"Probably. Why not?" Marcus shrugged. "So here's the thing: I can and I _will_ keep digging. I'll do it until you ask me to stop. But in return, there's something you could do for this process to hasten."

"What?"

"I'm suggesting that we take Killua's opinion about this. He knows crazy, psycho behavior better than we do, so why don't you just ask for his help—"

"No."

"Why not?"

"For two reasons. One, I don't want to, and two, I'm not gonna."

"Why not!"

"Just _no_, okay? We're gonna have to find another way to figure this out."

Marcus bit the inside of his cheek as he scrutinized me curiously, deciding whether I was thinking what he thought I was thinking. "Wait a minute," he muttered, almost to himself. His gaze was sharp and flat on my face. Detective's eyes. Then: "Is there a chance you don't want to tell him because you think the letter was sent by the Zaoldyecks?"

His question caused a huge lump to form in my throat, making it next to impossible to respond. I swallowed it down. Something on my face only further confirmed his suspicion.

"Oh, fuck." Marcus reared back on his chair. "_That_'s why you're freaking out so much! You suspect that his family is trying to bait you!"

Sighing, I scrubbed both hands down my face. I couldn't lie to Marcus; he could just read me so well.

"Shit, Yuki. If it's true…" The fear in his tortured eyes just didn't help my determination to deny mine. "This is so fucked up, Yuki. I _knew_ it! I knew something like that would happen eventually! Getting back together with him was the stupidest decision you've made so far. If it's true, then you need to consider that this might be something you need to run away from. Run away from fast."

"God." My head fell back with a groan. "Not this again."

"Your feelings for him are not enough. Sometimes you have to think about what's good for you," he spat, sounding awfully parental. This was not what I needed to hear right now. "This might be your only chance—or should I say, this might be your only _safe exit_. No matter what the hell that letter means, the Zaoldyecks sent it to _you_ instead of sending it to their son. It's a silent warning. Isn't it obvious that they want you to stay the hell away from him? It's _your_ life on the line, for God's sake."

"Marcus—"

"No, don't ask me to drop it! You're telling me that the greatest assassins in the world _probably_ have unfinished business with your ex-assassin boyfriend and have decided that you _might_ be their perfect weapon. I can't pretend that doesn't scare the shit out of me. It should scare the shit out of you, too."

I glared at him. "We don't even know if this is true or not. We're not going to fight over a hypothetical situation."

Marcus tried breathing in and out deeply to calm his nerves. When that didn't work, he opened the desk drawer and pulled a cigarette out. "We need to make sure. And we need to do it soon. I'm afraid that the answers won't come until the first dead body shows up."

I stood and moved closer to the fireplace, needing the warmth. Marcus' words sent a chill down my spine. I refused to let him see that, but I knew the possibility of what he was saying would always be there, at the back of my mind.

"I don't understand," Marcus said, lifting a lighter to the clove cigarette hanging from his lips. "Why don't you just tell Killua about this? If there's an even one percent possibility that his family is trying to contact you by sending out wild birds with creepy letters, don't you think he has the right to know?" He blew a cloud of smoke out. "Just sit with him and show him the letter. Simple."

Very simple. Just the thought of how that conversation would go made me miserable.

"Do we have any reference to the Zaoldyeck's blackmail letters?" I asked when I sat back on my chair. "The Zaoldyecks all use the exact same handwriting for their blackmail letters. We only need one reference."

Marcus rolled his eyes dramatically. "Stop being so damn difficult! Why do you need to go to the market to buy the product which _you already got_? Ask Killua to write you something!"

"We'll call that Plan B. Do we have a reference or not?" I was pissy, my words coming clipped and fast.

"I told you before," Marcus mumbled, tamping the ash into the ashtray, "nobody ever agreed to show us a Zaoldyeck's blackmail letter. These victims were either in denial or thought of it as a bad omen. You saw that for yourself after you wrecked your dad's office last night and couldn't find his letter. He got rid of it. Probably burned it. So no, we have no reference."

"Do you have a list of these blackmailees?"

Marcus grimaced. "Yeah? But that won't help. They're all dead. The most recent one was the man your boyfriend killed—Kenji Aizawa."

I threw my arms in the air and sighed loudly. "He did _not_ kill—" My eyes widened with a sudden realization—or more precisely, a sudden memory. "…Wait. Aizawa had an assistant. Aizawa had an assistant and his name is Arasawa."

"Yeah, so?"

"His name_ is_ Arasawa; he's still alive. We talked once. He told me that he saw Aizawa's letter. He _knows_ what it looks like."

"Okay?"

"And as a detective, you can get a digital map of every company out there."

"Yeah, but I heard that Arasawa has locked himself in his office ever since the auction ended. He doesn't want to see anybody. What are you getting at?"

"Do you know a good hacker?"

His frown deepened. "…Yeah, I know some. Damn it, Yuki, what's going on through your mind?"

I smirked at him in response.

Eyes wide, Marcus croaked, "Oh, shit."

* * *

My legs were swinging in the air as I sat casually but precariously on the sill of twentieth-floor window of the Aizawa Securities building, waiting for Marcus to give me the green light to go inside. He needed to contact an adequately talented I.T guy for me, someone who could hack his way into any system on this planet. I needed someone who could mess with the live recordings of the security cameras monitoring Arasawa's office floor before I went inside the building. I couldn't afford to be recognized; seen or heard. Kurapika would be furious if my face appeared in the newspaper's front page. I could practically see the bold headline:_ Bodyguard of Untouchable Mafia Leader, Light Nostrad, Caught Breaking Into Building._

I cringed. That wouldn't be pretty. Being scolded by Kurapika would somehow be ten times worse than being caught.

The building was a spire of gleaming sapphire that pierced the clouds. The climb up to the twentieth floor was done with greater ease than I'd imagined possible—urgency had lent strength to my muscles. I had already figured out how to open the vaulted window. I had pulled a detailed map of the building from Marcus' computer via USB. I knew where the security guards were supposed to be located by experience. This should go smoothly.

My phone vibrated with a text from Marcus.

_Now_. _You have_ _5 minutes_.

Perfect. I could work with five minutes.

I pulled the hood of my jacket securely over my hand, ready to slide the window open. My mind automatically repeated the cautious mantra I'd been internally chanting for the past thirty minutes. _Be smooth_. _Be very smooth_. _Ignore all your natural instincts_. _Act like you're invisible. Act like you're mute._ _Act very smoothly. Act Killua-ish._

The second I slid window open and lifted one knee up… a security guard's face came into my view, staring at me, looking horrified and hypnotized at once.

_Shit!_ I reacted instinctively; my elbow connected with his face. He staggered backward, flailing for balance. His back slammed against the opposite wall, blood gushing blood out of his face as he fainted. _Shit, shit, shit._

_So much for things going smooth_.

With one hand supporting my weight, I vaulted over the window sill, landing soundlessly on the building ground. Bending low, I inspected the man's face with narrowed eyes. His nose was broken.

Straightening back, I shrugged. _Well, what are you gonna do_.

As I turned around, I saw another guard down the hallway. The moment our eyes met, I lashed out. I crossed the distance between us before he managed to yell his own men to encourage them. Ducking under he hand he extended to punch me with, I rammed my fist into his abdomen and had the relief of seeing him fall to his knees, stunned by the blow. I moved quickly, clamping my palm over his mouth to muffle his whimpers as he lost his consciousness. I carefully supported his falling body from the impact, needing everything to happen as silently as possible.

I scowled. Things should go smoothly _starting now_.

It worked. I kept my mind focused on being invisible. I avoided running into more guards, narrowly, but I did it. More than once, I was dangerously close to getting caught. There was a lot of them. Knocking them all out would be a waste of the precious seconds I had.

Following the directions of the map on my phone, I moved stealthily down the hallways, rounding corner after corner until I stumbled upon the hallway of Arasawa's office. It was guarded by ten men. They stood by the door, blocking it. I peeked at them from behind a wall, trying to find a way to get the key to the office without having to handle them physically.

I came up with nothing.

I decided to reveal myself, and just get it over with.

I slipped my phone in my pocket and moved from my hiding spot, into the open where they could see me. I raised a greeting hand, giving them my best psychotic-brat face. "Hi."

It was all happening so fast but in slow motion at the same time. There was a collective gasps of rage and confusion. Muscles tensed. Guns cocked. Aimed at my head. Heavy footsteps sounded off the empty hallway as they all lunged at the same time.

.

.

.

Thirty seconds later, I was rifling through the inner pockets of the unconscious guards until I found a name badge that could open the electronic door to the office. Stepping over the men's bodies, I strode over to the office. I slipped the keycard into the swipe-sensor on the door, lodging it between the lock walls. A click, and the door opened.

Finally I stepped inside the office, bracing myself for the loudly stunned, squawking reaction I was expecting. It was like a scene in a movie, a totally cliché big-shot office—portable golf green corner and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. The curtains were swaying lazily, as if from a recent movement, even though there was no wind outside. I saw the window that I'd considered using for my dramatic entrance before I decided that it'd be _too_ dramatic to break directly into the boss's command center. If he freaked out without giving me a chance to talk, it'd suck big time.

But this… _this_ I was not expecting.

Arasawa barely reacted at all. He sat behind his massive desk, his head bowed helplessly over his arms on top of the wood. He didn't seem to care about me or my intrusion. He looked haggard and defeated. His office desk was strewn with papers and flat screens streaming news channels from around the world.

"Um, hello? Arasawa-san? It's me Yuki. From the underground auction? We met once?" I asked, hoping he would remember me despite his drunken state that night. I got no response whatsoever. "I'm sorry for intruding like this, but—" I pulled The Letter out of my pocket. "I need a favor," I said, but Arasawa didn't reply. Or move.

Slightly confused, I took a careful step forward. Frowning, I tried again. "Hello?" I called as I got closer to his desk. Arasawa still wouldn't lift his head. "Sir? You alright?"

No answer.

I shook his shoulder.

Nothing.

Ignoring the voice in my head begging me to leave the place and not look for troubles I couldn't bear to find, I grabbed his hunched shoulder, pushing it backwards. When his back reclined against the chair, my stomach dropped. A violent shiver moved through me.

It took the few shocked seconds for my brain to register what I was seeing.

Arasawa's face…was no longer there. It was grossly distorted beyond recognition. Golden needles pierced every area of his face. No blood, no features, no bone structure could be detected, the skin discolored, his eyes swollen shut.

Frantically, I looked around me. For a second, I believed that the attacker would appear from behind me, as if this was truly a movie scene.

Nobody was here, nobody tried to advance on me. I was _alone_. I was all alone with Arasawa's dead body. But…I felt the air stir around me, making me flinch. A silken, heavy blackness enfolded me. Someone was here only seconds ago, but the remnants of their powerful presence were still lurking in every empty corner, every shadow, eager to ambush unsuspecting victims.

Then, like a slap in the face, realization struck me.

_Needles. Sharp, golden needles. _

The air in the room was charged with a restless energy, something cynical, sinister, dismal—an energy that propagated through every air particle, crackling it with tension.

This aura, this exceptionally intense aura was familiar to me. The type of auras that could bring someone down on their knees. It felt like death. It reminded me of death, and it tugged on something on the back of my mind. I had felt it before, and not too long ago. I had felt it that night in the woods, when I was with Aimi.

But Aimi died that night. I _saw_ her die. Along with her brother.

The room was swimming before my eyes, my ears were throbbing with hurtful heartbeat sounds.

When I registered the rusty scent that suddenly filled the air, I risked another glance at the desk. Some of the scattered papers were dotted with blood. Needing answers, I swept the papers across the desk and onto the floor with trembling hands. There were feathers…all over the desk, hidden beneath the mess of papers. They floated in the air with the harsh movement and clung to my clothes. Streaks of fresh blood covered their unique brown color.

I froze, my heart racing.

My brain tried to process what was happening… What it meant… What was going on….

_Sharp, golden, round-head needles_.

My mind flashed back to another unforgettable night, the night when I found out that Killua was a Zaoldyeck. I recalled its events, trying to find the thread that linked all these incidents together.

That night, Killua ran away. Kenji Aizawa disappeared. Kenji Aizawa died. Jei was attacked. The gash on Jei's head…Jei's arm…Jei's words.

_"He threw a needle at my arm. An acute needle. And then my arm got alive—"_

___Sharp, golden, round-head needles_. Needles that alter the shape of the body.

A cold, rock-hard knot settled in my gut. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry as sawdust. It took a sudden onslaught of memories for one thought, one name to ravage my mind:

_Illumi Zaoldyeck._

A vicious scream erupted and Arasawa crumbled to the ground in pain, yelling to the high heavens.

He was not dead.

Legs shaking, I backed up from him, confused by all this.

Glancing once at the door, I punched the emergency button on Arasawa's desk to summon all the security in the building, and fled out of the window.

* * *

Lights that were activated by my movements came on when I entered the suite. The energy that thrummed through the space when the boys occupied it was markedly absent. It wasn't until I was alone in the frighteningly quiet living room the nerves really hit me.

Tossing my hooded jacket on the sofa, I went to the kitchen. I poured myself some water and gulped it down the painful knot in my throat.

Aizawa's assassination. Aimi's frenzy. The Eagle. The Letter. Arasawa's face. All of them revolved around one person.

_Illumi Zaoldyeck_.

The stem of the glass snapped in my hand before I threw it at the wall, causing a horrible crashing noise to echo through the entire suite.

Pure, unfettered anger rolled through every nerve of my body like a physical jolt, before emanating off my skin like a toxic fog intent on choking me. It seeped out of me in a rush of hot energy, causing my limbs to tingle and jerk, my muscles beginning to spasm as I started to pace. My hands shook with fury.

Illumi Zaoldyeck was here. All this time, he was here. He was here in York Shin. And I was in the sniffing distance of him.

Marcus was going to kill me. Not in the way Illumi was insinuating, but figuratively speaking, he was going to kill me. That was if Killua didn't kill me first.

Large cracks started to form along the thick soundproofed walls and marble counter. It wasn't until a row of glasses in the open cupboard broke into thousands of tiny fractures and toppled all over the floor that I realized how much my aura had gone out of control.

_Get a grip_. _You're losing it_.

My phone rang.

"Arasawa's dead. What the hell have you done, Yuki?" Marcus shouted when I picked up. His accusing tone sent me in a tailspin. This tone was the reason why I didn't pick up my phone the first twenty times he called.

"Marcus, don't push me," I warned. "It's really, _really_ not a good night."

"You could have been caught or killed!"

"I can't talk right now—"

"That was a close call! Do you realize how fucking _lucky_ you were?"

My teeth gritted.

"I can't talk right now," I repeated monotonously.

His voice changed, softened. "Are you okay?"

"I. Can't. Talk, Marcus. Do you want me to fucking _sing_ it for you? I'll talk to you when I can! Stop calling me, dammit!" I hang up, completely fed up with everyone and everything in my life.

Was I okay? No, I was losing my mind. Illumi didn't kill Arasawa. Illumi _intended_ not to kill Arasawa. Was that a sign? A warning? Did Illumi follow me into Aizawa's company? Did he know I'd be looking for answers there, so he helped me out in his own way? How long had he been spying on me? How long had he been in York Shin? Was he here to challenge me? Hurt me? Both?

Worse, was he here to hurt Killua_ through me_?

The mere thought of the Zaoldyecks being so close to Killua was enough to send me into a panic.

I conjured Killua's words, trying to let them soothe the wild apprehension in my head.

_They know that I'm in a different place right now._

_I built my resistance. _

_I cut every wire that linked me to their world. _

_They're out of my life. For good._

But what if they weren't?

What if Illumi was the one who sent that eagle with the ominous letter? What did he want me to get from it? What was he trying to tell me? More importantly, what was he trying to prove by doing all that? If it was Killua he was trying to reach, then why was he choosing to take the longest road? He was twisting and turning around us without delivering any attack. He wouldn't do it right away. He wanted to take his time… or maybe give _us_ time. But time for what? Time to catch up on his plan? Illumi was waiting for something, and not knowing what that something could be was killing me right now.

How long was I going to wait? Weeks? Months?

Killua had the darkness locked up inside, but how long could it stay that way with Illumi bound and determined to release it?

I couldn't do this. I couldn't fall apart. If this was truly a fight, if I wanted to win this fight, if I was going to keep Killua from being swept back up into the darkness, I was going to have to be a lot stronger than this. I needed to be tough enough to handle whatever Illumi was trying to do to us.

However, I had nothing to do but sit here, waiting to know what became of all this. The thought of doing nothing but waiting made me want to throw up.

I plunged my fists into the counter. "Damn it. Goddamn it to hell."

I couldn't do this alone. Not anymore. I didn't trust myself to make the right decisions. There was no time to play the secret game. Killua was in this. Killua was all in, and I needed to treat him that way. When he got back, I was going to tell him. He needed to know what happened. Killua needed to know everything.

My phone rang again.

Once I hit the green button, I started screaming. "I swear to god, Marcus, if you don't stop calling me, I'm going to—"

"Err, Yuki, it's me."

"Oh, hey, Gon." I pulled myself together, trying to sound calm enough. "I—I'm sorry. I didn't look at the screen before answering. Uhh, what's up?"

Gon chuckled, but it was a nervous sound. "Good. Did I wake you?"

"No, I wasn't sleeping. Did you find anything new about your father? Any progress?" I hoped there was. Killua had to be in a very good mood when I talked to him about this mess.

"No, nothing yet." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Yuki. I shouldn't be calling you at this time, but I had to. It…" Gon trailed off, seemingly having an inner fight within himself over what he was about to say. "S-something bad just happened."

Hearing that, the first name that popped into my mind was _Illumi_. Suddenly, I had a terrible, disorienting feeling. Assuming that Illumi was indeed the one that had killed Arasawa, then there was no way in hell he would be in Los Selegna right now, noway he could be 2500 miles away from York Shin. No matter the transportation he used, it just wasn't possible for him to be there in a span of one hour unless he had an identical twin or could teleport or something. Not possible. There was noway.

No freaking way.

…Was there?

"You still there, Yuki?"

Hating the direction my thoughts had taken, I said, "Yeah. Tell me what happened, please."

"I'm just calling you to—" Gon stopped, and I could hear his sigh of dismay. His lack of answers was making me crazier. "Can you—can you book the first flight and come here?"

A sickening worry drowned me, making it hard to breathe. "What's going on?"

"Please don't freak out."

"Too late for that. _What's going on?_" The very few, very slow seconds he paused were my last straw. I yelled into the phone, "Spill it, Gon! What happened?"

"It's Killua," he answered grimly. "He's in the hospital."

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry! Almost every future chapter ends with cliffhanger now. But you can share your theories: what do you think happened to Killua? Do you have any idea what Illumi is planning to do? Do you still like me?

Leave me your opinions. I love and enjoy reading whatever it is that you want to say. So I'll say nothing but: review.


	39. Bad Boy

**A/N:** 'Ello there, mates. (Err…I wanted to speak British but I ended up sounding like a drunken pirate.) Anyways, I don't feel like writing an author's note. I just want to thank you all for being patient.

For _Mikalya_, the anon reviewer who asked me how a 17 year old Killua looks like…well, if it helps, I can show you a fanart of how I see older Kil and Gon: http(:/(/)oi43(.tinypic).com(/9pxk3l).jpg with no parethenses. I'll put the link in my profile just in case.**********  
**

* * *

**_40. Bad Boy  
_**

Atypical Nen-poisoning was what Wing-san called it, a rare manifestation that attacked the flowing of Killua's aura. I called it hell. And we were all trapped in it.

One knife did the trick. One stab in the shoulder that would appear rather harmless to a person like Killua, was enough to put his life on the line. Design-wise, the knife was nowhere near special, its blade was not overly sharp, and it was not laced with poison as anyone would assume. The knife was conjured, the blade materialized to do its magic with a mere slide against someone's skin. The conjured object was engulfed with poisonous aura severe enough to cause any human to die a slow and painful death. The attacker was a skilled user, capable of creating highly toxic objects and entities however he pleased, force them into the victim's anatomy without their knowledge, and dispel the weapon in an instant. And the poisoning brutal symptoms were only supposed to show up when the victim attempted to use their nen.

Wing-san, Gon and Killua's master and confidant, gave us his hypothesis through the phone. While poison relies on the circulatory and respiratory system in order to work its magic, Nen poisoning is different; it's very rare and has a glittering track record, which makes it unstable and unpredictable. Dangerous. It would suck leisurely at the person's aura, their life energy, their source of power and strength. Using their nen would only stimulate the effects. It would further activate the poison and lure it to do its work. It would release waves of energy from the body only to leave it whacked and battered.

In Killua's special case, he wasn't just a smart Nen user, but he also had a high endurance rate for pain, which basically disabled the poison to affect his nerve system.

Physically-wise, Killua was fine, but he was Nen-restricted now. Problem was, we did not know how badly his condition was going to get in the future. Since he was an anomaly of nature and immune to almost all types of poison, we had no standard to go by or compare to. We could only wait and see.

I felt miserable. In all the time I had known him, Killua had rarely shown a weakness, human or otherwise, if I didn't count his inability to be serious at times. And now, he wasn't weak, but _weakened_. I wanted to approach this situation rationally, like I tried to do to all my problems. Rationally, my boyfriend was not okay and of course, I was concerned. But that pretense lasted all of a moment because Killua wasn't my boyfriend, but he was so much more: he was my ally, my rock, my occasional roommate, my protector, my friend. I wasn't concerned; I was devastated.

And funnily enough, all of the above wasn't even the main problem we were having.

The sun was setting in York Shin when Killua shoved the door of the suite open.

"Killua, slow down. Almost breaking the front door isn't going to prove anything."

"I'm fine."

"Will you stop saying that already?" Gon pleaded.

"Don't you have something better to say?" I seconded.

On his way to the kitchen, Killua rolled his eyes. "I'm fine. Peachy. A-OK. Rockin'—Whoa." His eyes widened when they flickered to the broken mess I'd created in the kitchen the night before and he glanced at me with one arched brow. "Someone threw a wild PMS fit."

I forcefully dropped my bag on the floor and exchanged the twentieth frustrated glance with Gon. This scenario had been going on for almost twelve hours now. Every time we'd expressed our worry, he'd tease it away.

"Killua."

"Jeez. I'm fine," Killua repeated stubbornly as he pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge and gulped down its contents all in one go. When he saw the looks on Gon's and my face, he shrugged. "What? I'm a little dehydrated."

Standing next to me, Gon shook his head as his composure faltered for a moment. "Killua," he said, very patiently. "Please stop acting idiotically."

There was a dark flash of that intimidating skilful defiance in Killua's eyes before he shut the door of the fridge with unnecessary force. His mouth twitched in determination. "I'm not acting idiotically."

"You're not?" I said incredulously, scoffing. "Hmm, let's see. You ran out of the hospital and had us chase you down to the airport. Like freaking guard dogs. You don't know what it was like to stop people in the airport and say, 'Ohhi, we lost a boy. White hair, black shirt, oh and_ he's seventeen years old._'"

Killua looked surprised for two whole seconds before the well-practiced indifference took over. "I told you that I was leaving the hospital," he said, grabbing another water bottle. "It's your fault that you didn't take me seriously."

Gon crossed his arms, clearly as pissed off as I was. "If you're mad about something," he replied, his voice hovering at the threshold of irritation. "Then let it all out. Don't hold it in. Let's talk and put an end to this."

That flipped Killua's switch. His eyes flashed, a scowl darkening his light-hearted features. "Oh, yeah? Let's," he bit out, building a fury. He threw the bottle carelessly on the island and came toward us, his stride swift and strong. I staggered back as he pushed me out of his way, then his fist wrapped around Gon's collar, hauling him upwards til their faces were scant inches apart. "Let's point fingers. None of this would have happened if you weren't being such a _damned fool._"

Gon gasped, glaring equally as hard. "M—me? Are you seriously saying this was all my fault?"

"Yes!" Killua roared. His eyes were so dark and intense, it was almost scary. "When you see an attack coming my way, you step aside and let me have it. It's _mine_ to handle, not yours. None of this would have happened if you weren't acting so… so yourself! I would have been able to avoid getting jumped if I hadn't been so busy making sure your ass was out of the way! I don't need a bodyguard! When is this ever going to sink in through that thick skull of yours?"

Hurt confusion crossed Gon's face before it was replaced with aggravation. His voice was also rising. "What was I supposed to do, then? Stand there and watch that man attempt to kill you?"

"I don't know, but I know what you _weren't_ supposed to do, which is _get in my way_," Killua barked, his grip tightening destructively on Gon's shirt. "You should have left me and run for your life. If that knife had stabbed you, it'd have killed you instantly, you goddamn idiot. Do you have any idea how lucky you are that we're not all standing around your grave right now? Do you?"

Gon's lips thinned. "I'd never leave you to run for my life. _Ever_."

"That's why you're a damned fool." Killua flung his arm in the air. "I have haters everywhere I go. In every corner. I could throw a rock through the window and hit someone who wants my head. Are you planning to save me from them all?"

Gon lifted his chin. "Yes."

Killua gritted his teeth.

I stepped between the two boys, uselessly pushing at Killua's shoulder. "Killua, please—"

He didn't budge, instead he directed the full force of his glare on me. "Don't interfere. This doesn't concern you."

I stepped back, effectively silenced.

"And then after royally screwing up, you called _her_," Killua spat, gesturing with his head at me. "On top of everything, you stupidly called her over. Why would you do that? Huh? What did that accomplish? She shouldn't have come. Couldn't you pause and think for a minute that I didn't want her there?"

"I'm standing right here," I muttered wryly. If he'd slapped me in the face, it wouldn't have shocked me more. I knew he didn't mean to hurt me, but he did.

Gon's lips pursed, but he said nothing.

Killua continued his verbal abuse. "You know that she'll be on the rocks if she leaves the country, and you know she's stupid enough to do it. What the hell were you thinking?"

For God's sakes, was I invisible to him or something? Had I suddenly obtained super powers? Or was he purposely avoiding to acknowledge me?

"I wasn't," Gon muttered, looking down. The look of regret he pulled off was so convincing, it almost fooled me. His voice rasped, the only indication of the absolute rage I could see in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what I was thinking. You're right."

"Yeah, I am," Killua said quietly, letting go of Gon's shirt. "So fucking quit it already."

"I will." Gon swallowed, remarkably hiding his anger away. "Sorry, Killua. You're right about everything you said."

_What the hell?_ My own anger fueled, and I squinted. _No, he's not right. He is so not right._

As if he'd read my mind, Gon looked at me then, a soft warning in his eyes, making me immediately curious. And more confused. It seemed like he was begging me to keep quiet.

So I did. Waiting until Killua slammed the door of his room shut behind him, I turned to Gon with a frown. "What was that, Gon? Why did you let him talk to you that way? You _know_ he has no right to blame you for what happened."

Gon sat on the sectional sofa and threw his head back. "The man we traveled to meet up with—the one who had info. about my father—bailed on us. Killua is mad about that. He feels betrayed by the person who sent us to Los Selegna. There's no reasoning with him right now."

"We all get mad, but we don't turn into a self-serving, big-mouthed, empty-headed jerk." I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache gathering strength. "And what's with his lame-assed denial? What, he thinks he can just fool us by saying 'I'm fine' over and over?"

Gon cracked a smile, though I could see it was reluctant. "Don't worry about him. If he could be that nasty, then he's really fine."

"I'm gonna go talk to him."

"Yuki, no." Gon grabbed my wrist. "He's going to be jittery and on edge now. This isn't the first time that someone tried to physically hurt him for revenge, but it _is_ the first time that someone succeeded. He's going to shut himself down emotionally. It's his first instinct, how he copes. He's going to shut us out and wall himself up. This had happened before, and it usually takes a lot of work to get him to let anyone in again. He's pretty much like a wild cat; at his fiercest when he's most vulnerable. You don't want to do that."

I did not know what was going to be worse, placating Killua or restraining him. Everything was falling apart, all of a sudden. Illumi on one side and that vengeful Conjurer on the other side.

"Well." I pried my wrist free. "I have to at least try to knock something into him."

I went to Killua's room. I knocked once and let myself in, shutting the door quietly behind me. My eyes raked the immediate area around me in search for him. His bedroom was so very different from the rest of the suite, which was warm and inviting. This room was sleek, modern, and cool. A massive sleigh bed dominated the space, the frame mahogany leather and the linens a cream white. The rest of the furnishings perfectly matched the bed with their dark wooden colors, making the place look pale and colorless… Cold.

Without his commanding presence anywhere in sight, his room felt too quiet, too empty with no art on the walls to enrich the atmosphere. Everything on the dark walls had been taken down, all besides one large, mythological painting on one wall, of a woman on a rock by the ocean holding a small harp and a man in the water below her who was trying to reach for her. His bedroom said more about him than he ever did.

Awareness hit me when the door of the en-suite bathroom opened and Killua stepped into view. His hair and face were damp as if he had plunged his head under water. His eyes darkened when he saw me by the door, for an instant before his mask slid effortlessly into place, an act so easily accomplished it had become second nature to him.

"What are you doing here?" His face was awfully relaxed, his voice low and calm. Anyone looking from a distance would not pick up on the tension between us, but it was there in his eyes. Burning indifference and icy fury. He was a master at putting those two together.

"Hey." I hurriedly crossed the distance between us, taking the opportunity to drink him in, my gaze sliding all over him to make sure he was still bright and healthy. For now. "How are you feeling?"

"Dandy."

"You sure?"

"Yes," he bit out impatiently.

"Good." Swinging my arm, I slapped him with enough force to whip his head to the side and cause my palm to throb. Fury boiled up inside me and spewed out. "How could you? How _dare_ you blame Gon for wanting to protect you? You'd rather he ran and left you get killed? You'd rather die than be saved by one of us?" I glared at him through slitted eyes. "Are you _kidding_ me with this?"

Killua's eyes were closed as he turned his head slowly back towards mine. Cracking his neck, he finally looked at me, his face impassive, his eyes hard as sapphires.

"No," he answered curtly. "No, I'm not kidding. And yes, I don't want to be saved. You know why, Yuki?" His lip curled in a sneer. "Because I'm a selfish guy. I do bad, selfish things. I only look at things from my point of view, not yours or Gon's or anyone's else. Mine. I'd rather die and hurt you by my death than spend a minute of my life dealing with the guilt of having you die in my place. I'd rather die than lose every sense of self-worth by living with the fact that _I'm_ right here, and you're in the damned ground."

My eyes opened wide.

"And I'd rather die right now than deal with the pain and the regret and the anger of losing someone I cared about just because they were foolishly trying to stand against the inevitable that is my own fate. Someone with dreams and plans and fucking life purposes, someone with a reason to wake up every morning. I don't plan on living with the consequences of anyone's stupid decisions. I want to have my own peace of mind. So yes, I am _that_ selfish. That's _who I am_, Yuki. And there are no slaps in the world hard enough to make me change my mind about this."

"So let me get this straight…" My voice sounded calm; I was anything but. His words caused something inside me to crack and rupture. "You're saying that unlike us, you have nothing to live for? No purpose?" I paused. "No one?"

For a moment, I saw regret flicker across his face, but then it was gone, suppressed behind an iron façade. "I didn't mean it that way."

"No, it's okay, Killua. I think you've made your point pretty clear." I turned to storm out, and he said nothing for a few seconds, long enough that I thought he was going to stop me from leaving and take me in his arms and comfort me.

The knife twisted a little further when he didn't.

"Gon will get you anything you want," he said from behind me. "If you need anything, ask him. Wait for him. And I prefer that you sleep here instead of your apartment for the time being. Tell Gon that I don't want anyone to get in my room unless I say otherwise."

I twisted to look at him. "Why?"

"I want to be alone. I'm no mood for company." The rigid posture of him and the look in his eyes supported his words and ensured me that he didn't want me in his room. His mask was there, that implacable mask that kept the world a safe distance away. "You have your work. The last two weeks of it. Just… focus on that."

I stepped out of his room.

Cursing, I ran both of my hands through my hair. I was torn between my concern for him, which begged me to stay, and my hard-won self-preservation, which assured me that his coping strategy wasn't one I wanted to deal with right now. The road to recovery for him was paved with taunting detachment and cold logic, and I didn't know how we'd end up passing it.

* * *

On Tuesday's evening, I walked my way through the long winding driveways of the Nostrad's extravagant mansion and was surprised to see Gon standing behind the golden iron gates that were patrolled by trained protection dogs. He lounged casually against a tree, wearing baggy dark jeans that showcased his mile-long legs and an oversized v-neck in olive green that emphasized the soft brown in his eyes and his short spiked hair. He easily drew the attention of everyone who passed by him.

Gon could give Killua a run for his money…er, looks. He was more charismatic and boyishly charming, almost pretty compared to Killua's sharp beauty, but both were handsome young men who made the ladies look twice and stare in unsustainable delight.

I flashed my ID card to the security cameras that were cleverly hidden somewhere and the gates opened. As he saw me approaching, Gon turned his smile from the guard dog that was lapping happily at his shoes to my direction, and my mood was instantly lightened.

"Hi!" I greeted him. "How's your day been?"

"Great so far. Yours?"

"Eh, I've had worse. What are you doing here?" I asked him.

His casual shrug was weird. It was too casual. "I thought I could walk you home and you know." Another shrug. "Share my jibber jabber with you."

Gon wanted to share about his jibber jabber with me? Gon picked me up from work because he wanted to share his jibber jabber with me? Gon used the word 'jibber jabber'? Something was not quite right.

"You know what's funny?" Gon tossed a thickly muscled arm around my shoulders, easy enough for him to do because he was taller by five inches. He tugged me out of the Nostrad's estate and into the sidewalk. "You're my bestfriend's girlfriend and I don't know everything about you. You don't even know my last name. We should get to know each other better—_now, _preferably. What's your favorite color?"

I winced a little. "Are you having a mild ADD moment or something?"

He continued as if he didn't hear me. "Mine is pink. Which is, actually, a very masculine color, if you think about it. It's almost aggressive in a way. It's pretty much a mixture of red and white—"

I slapped his arm away to face him. "What's happening, Gon? Why are you walking me home?"

"I told you—"

"Ap, ap, ap," I ribbed with a finger waving in his face. "No jibber-jabbering crap. I want the ugly truth. Did_ he_ send you to make sure I wasn't falling over my own head?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

I tilted my head to the side and gave him a dirty look.

Gon slumped his shoulders with a sigh. "Yes. Yes, he did."

Closing my eyes and clenching my fists, I pulled myself together and fought off the driving urge to race my way to the suite and call Killua a jerk. He was still in his no-talking-to-Yuki zone. God forbid he'd break one of his embargoes to check on me himself. He was unbelievable.

"Whatever." I resumed walking. "Come now. We're going to walk our problems off and we're going forget about anything related to the K-Word."

We talked about my work, laughing over both a doo-wop group that was snappily singing in the middle of the street and some anecdotes about Gon's struggles with his dad's hunting. The time passed swiftly, and it didn't get too long to get to my building. As we passed by the front desk, the doorman greeted me by the surname, and just when I was about to slip inside the building, he asked me to wait. Reaching into the large pocket of his uniform coat, he pulled an envelope of some sort and handed it to me.

"What's this?" Gon asked, turning those wide eyes down at me.

I shrugged my shoulders, equally puzzled.

The doorman responded by looking over our shoulders toward the sidewalk. Turning my head, I followed his line of sight, trying to see whatever it was that he saw. A glossy black-and-chrome motorcycle that probably cost more than most people made in a year was waiting at the curb. I glanced briefly at the sealed envelope in my hand. It had a weight and it rattled. Confused and with a touch of horror, I ripped it open and a key fell into my palm. The key-chain bore the insignia of Gary's company.

_Of course. _I scoffed. I should've known.

Gon came beside me. "What is it?"

"My uncle bought me a bike."

Gon let out a whistle of awe as he moved over to where the sleek vehicle was parked. He studied it with a critical and curious eye. "That's… swank. Why would he do something like this all of a sudden?"

"Because he's trying to buy me off," I sighed as I swung onto the bike, testing the engine. "He buys me something every time we butt heads with each other. Which is _a lot_. If it's not a black credit card, then it's a beauty team sent to my apartment. And if it's not a hired doorman—" I lowered my voice "—to spy on me, then it's a ten-billion-zennies donation made in my name to the city's orphanage. He's a man with no limits."

Gary tried so hard to get on my good sides after every argument. Unfortunately, he had a difficult time accepting that I didn't view money the same way he did. I often wished there would be an end to it. I liked to be pampered as much as the next girl, but Gary didn't understand that showing me how much he cared was much simpler than this. Bribing me with my parents' blood money was almost as bad as sending friends over to escort me home.

Gon patted the leather seat of the bike and gave me a genuinely curious look. "Why do you fight a lot?"

"Because he hates my master with passion. There's this never-ending competition between the two of them, but it's wholly from my uncle's part. My master never treated Gary with less than respect or had an unkind word to say about anyone, but even that couldn't stop the antagonism."

"That master must be a good man if you defend him that much."

"He's a great man," I corrected.

Gon smiled. "Maybe your uncle is trying to make up for something through his generosity."

"You mean like making amends?"

"Yes. Who knows."

Who knew indeed. Gary was a mystery man. A mystery that I could not understand but which was so evident to me. I wasn't willing to think about that right now. The last time I dealt with my frustration with him was through high-calories goodies, and regrettably, karaoke.

I could laugh at it now, but the degree of patheticness in my way of dealing with my fights with Gary showed how bad I was at taking smart decisions: I sang this up-beat pop song three times, got kicked out of the restaurant for insisting they let me sing it a fourth time, flirted unabashedly with everyone, and had to be piggy-backed home.

Knowing it was pointless to get riled up over old frustrations, I unstrapped the helmet from behind my seat and turned to Gon. "Feel like having an adrenaline-fueled ride back to _your_ home? I promise it won't be as lousy as the one you just gave me."

Gon raised his eyebrows with a crooked grin. "Oh, really?"

"Oh, yeah. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Is that so?" His mock sternness made me smile. He narrowed his eyes, considering my proposal. Without further argument, he took the helmet from my hands and just stared at it.

"You're supposed to slip it over your head," I teased. "What, you've never ridden a motorcycle before?"

"Not really."

"Wow. What kind of a bad-boy bestfriend are you?" I asked in mock dismay.

Gon's smile was weak as his gaze dropped. "Apparently a bad one, I suppose."

My lips pursed. I shouldn't have said that.

Deciding to forget about the K-Word, even for a little while, was easier said than done. He was just so _there_. Damn him.

Desperate to cheer him up again, I said, "Tell you what. How about we go back to the suite and I teach you how to make chocolate molten cakes? He would love those."

Gon rushed to put the helmet on to hide his expression from me, but I could still see the grim look in his eyes behind the smoky shield of the helmet. "Mito-san used to make me the best homemade macaroni and cheese. It's the ultimate in comfort food. Maybe it'd make him feel better."

"Well, there you go." I forced a smile as I revved the engine. "You can teach me how to make that and I'll show you how to make the dessert. It's nice not having to do things alone, isn't it?"

The words tugged at my heart as I said them. If only chocolate molten cakes could solve all problems. If only it could rid the boys of their terminal self-guilt-trips. I wished I could make Killua see that he didn't have to handle this all alone. He hated being alone with his fucked-up mind, but sometimes so determined to live that way.

* * *

"I don't know if I'm doing it right." Gon leaned his hip against the kitchen counter, his lips pursed in a sort of pout as he transferred macaroni to a buttered baking dish. "It may not taste so good."

I smiled at his worry. I reached up and ran the fingers of my clean hand through his hair, thinking of longer white strands that felt like thick silk. "I'm sure he's going to love it."

Gon's mouth twisted wryly. "He knows that cooking is one of my pleasures but it's not one of my talents, so I have room to screw up." He slid a finger through the batter that clung to the mixing bowl in my hands and licked it clean. "Mmm, I think I'm in love with this."

"Ah, Imma tell you a secret. After my Exam, I hit the road and met an aspiring Gourmet Hunter who taught me all these yummy dessert recipes. So I started to take credit vicariously through him, and when people came over I'd be like—" I tossed my hair over my shoulder in mock snobbishness "—'Ohh, I made this perfect Chimney Cake with with sliced almonds as a topping for you, it's an ol' grandma recipe."

Gon laughed. "You're shameless."

"I'm not so proud of it," I replied with a grin, which was soon wiped as Killua suddenly walked into the living room, all dressed up in solid black from head to toe.

Gon bristled right away. "Whoa, whoa. Wait up. Where are you going?"

Killua barely looked at us. "Out."

I glanced at the clock on the microwave. "At eleven-thirty before midnight?"

"I'm not a kid." His tone was sharp and mean. "I don't give a damn what time it is. I have things to take care of."

"We made dinner." My voice was so small compared to his. "We made dinner for you. You're not going anywhere."

Without slowing his pace, Killua stole one glance in my direction, his eyes not lingering long enough to kill me, but it still stung like a bitch. "I have to go. Don't wait up for me."

Gon jumped out of the kitchen, and in a flash, appeared in front of Killua's face, blocking him. "No. You're not doing this."

Killua scowled. "I told you not to get in my way."

"I told you to stop acting like an idiot," Gon shot back, his face hard and exceedingly determined. "You're not going anywhere in your condition. Not until you heal completely. Any business you want to deal with can wait until the poison wears off your system."

"I'm not waiting until then," Killua deadpanned, "I'm going to find that girl who baited me and gave me false information, and I'm going to make her wish she was dead. If you want to come with me and watch, you're more than welcome. I promise it'll be very entertaining." He sidestepped, heading toward the front door of the suite.

Gon rounded on him again. "Let it go, Killua," he warned.

"Step aside, Gon."

"Not a chance, sorry. I'm going to keep you from leaving even if I have to chain you down."

Killua barked out a dry laugh. "Chain me down, huh? A little melodramatic for your tastes, don't you think?"

From over Killua's shoulder, Gon's eyes met mine in silent plea. I stepped out of the kitchen.

"You're hurt. And angry. You're acting out," Gon said calmly. "It's okay to be mad as long as you're mad at the right person, in the right way and in the right time. Otherwise you won't be forgiven."

Killua was hard-faced and distant, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Go back to your room, Killua."

"Are you _commanding_ me?" Killua squared off with his friend. They were almost the same height. But while Killua was leanly built and an inch taller, Gon was bulky; more finely muscled and broad-shouldered in a way that oozed confident determination. In a fight, you'd expect the two of them to be evenly matched, but there was absolutely no competition right now. And that was a problem.

Gon leaned, not backing down. "You're leaving me no choice."

Killua's eyes turned dark. "I _am_ giving you one, which is to _step aside_, or else watch me help you do so—" His words cut off as I landed a lightning-quick chop to the back of his neck. He sucked in a sharp breath, then stiffened in shock, his eyes clouding over. His vision tunneled to a pinpoint and he lost the battle to stay conscious. I lifted the mixing bowl protectively over my head as Killua slumped backward and sank unwillingly into my waiting outstretched arm.

Gon rushed to support Killua's arm around his shoulders and balance him up. "Thank you," he exhaled. He took Killua back to his room and set him carefully on the bed.

"I know you said fight him with kindness but can we please narrow that to just 'fight him'?" I said when we stepped back into the living room.

Gon sighed. "This is harder than I thought."

I poured us two glasses of icy cold water, sliding one across the island toward him. "He's going to be so pissed off when he wakes up."

"Well. I'd rather have him alive and pissed off than dead and happy."

Gon's words sent a chill down my spine. Leaning my forearms onto the island, I tapped my glass to his in a pitiful display of scorned solidarity. At least we had each other.

* * *

The next day, I arrived in the suite early in the morning. Stepping out of the foyer, I took the hallway to the living room, and paused at the threshold.

My gaze riveted to Killua's back as he stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. His reflection in the glass revealed a contemplative mood. His gaze was unfocused and his mouth was grim. His hands, buried deep in his pockets, betrayed an inherent unease. He looked remote and removed, a young man who was inherently and infinitely alone.

_It's a part of me that I can never forget… Such dark things don't fade with time… Reverberate through the years…_

_I have to live with them._

His mind was buzzing so loudly, I could practically hear it from across the room.

Even though I was perfectly preventing my aura from leaking away from my body and standing statue-still _and_ not breathing, he sensed my presence. Or maybe he just felt my yearning. He pivoted; then went very still.

My legs and butt were tingling from the vibrations of my new bike. The rest of me was tingling from the need to be wrapped around him. Tingling or aching. Or both. I swallowed past the knot in my throat. My hands were nearly twitching with the want to touch his. And the way he looked at me…my pulse leaped. I missed him so much. I missed his smile, and his smell, and his eyes, and his arms, and…

Then his face smoothed into the emotionless mask I hated. Abruptly, he turned on his heels and strode out toward his bedroom with only a short, inscrutable glance at me.

Turning on my heels, too, I left the suite.

* * *

I finished my day shift and decided to take a walk since it was such a nice day. I walked by a little bookstore and spent a couple hours hanging out there, perusing every book ever written about the Zaoldyecks. Grabbing a big bag full of books, I headed down to the auction building's cafeteria. I pulled up a chair at one of the tables and prepared to flick through one of books. I had nothing better to do since my best source of information didn't want to talk to me, deciding to sulk in his damn room all by himself. This had been the longest week of my life.

I sipped my iced-tea and began reading.

"Hello."

Lifting my head, I found a handsome man with laughing blue eyes and dark red hair standing in front of me, holding a disposable iced-tea cup like the one I'd filled for myself. He didn't look like a guest; his face was young and unlined. My guesstimate of his age was mid-to-late twenties. He was dressed formally in slacks, a neatly pressed button-down shirt and a silver tie. "Hi?" I greeted him, not bothering to hide my wariness.

"How is your day?"

My brow arched. "Swell, man-I've-never-seen-before. Thanks for asking."

The stranger dude chuckled, and the sound was light and charming. "I'm new to the area. My company just relocated," he clarified, and I stared at him, not sure what he wanted me to say to that. "Do you live around here? I know I see you here every morning, but you seem so familiar, I thought maybe I've seen you around somewhere else. Familiar faces are hard to come by, you know?"

I paused, taking a long and slow sip from my cup while I stared at him without blinking. "May I help you with something?"

"Yes, certainly you may," he said, with a note of mischief. "I don't usually do this, but would you be interested in getting a drink with me tonight? I know this great new bar."

My other brow rose to match the first; I was bewildered, and a little creeped out. "You're kidding, right? Do you know how old I am?" I asked incredulously.

He gave me what was supposed to be a pants-dropping smile. "Doesn't matter. To me, age is nothing but a state of mind."

"Yeah, well, in the state of _my_ mind, it's fifteen to twenty-one hard time," I countered tightly.

"Alright, alright. No alcohol." He held his hands up. "I'll settle for coffee… or iced-tea. Mind if I join you?" he said, rounding me.

I was about to reply with the classic, _Nah, I'm good_, when a hand settled on my shoulder and squeezed firmly.

"She's taken."

Twisting at the waist, I was faced with Jei. He looked like he stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. He was wearing what looked like a million-zenni, black suit and a green tie that made his eyes even more noticeable, if that was possible. His longish hair was perfectly coifed and not as manhandled; tied back in a short ponytail. He looked different but still the same.

He rounded the table and settled on the chair beside me, his relentless gaze never leaving the man.

Across from me, the stranger man's eyes lost their softness. "Of course. Excuse me," he muttered, and left stealthily, just like the way he had come.

"Look at you, Fancy Little JJ," I teased, appraising his make-over. "Being all protective of me and acting like a good wingman. Is this one of the bro rules? Never put the toilet seat down? And your sexual conquest is my sexual conquest?"

"Pretty much." Jei shrugged and freed the button of his suit jacket. "What's new?"

"Everything." I sighed. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you in a while."

Jei shrugged again. "Business trip. Nostrad and I were in China."

"The country?"

"No, the big pile of dishes in my mother's breakroom."

"Funny."

"I know. Anyway." Jei's brows twitched upwards in that sarcastically sardonic way of his. "How's Killua dealing with the _very_ unfortunate circumstance that had tragically befallen him?"

I winced at the blunt question. Of course he knew about that. Jei knew about everything, and it was a little hard sometimes to pretend that it wasn't downright creepy. "Fantastically."

"Still being Mr. Moody McBroodster?"

"Yup. And killing it."

"Ah." That brought a touch of amusement to Jei's otherwise severe face. "Hell hath no fury like a Zaoldyeck scorned."

I scoffed.

"My work here is done." He stood, smoothing out his jacket. "Don't worry about Killua's condition. You know the saying: 'Time works wonders.' Everything's coming back eventually. With a vengeance." He waved goodbye at me from over his shoulder. "I'll grace you with my presence later. Stay swell."

* * *

Two days passed in a flurry of activity. And with an odd surreality. I made it to work, spent most of my prelunch time with Gon, and went through my evenings in a kind of a chilly fog.

I couldn't shake a feeling of dread.

Killua made no contact with me whatsoever. No call, no text. Not a single word. His silence was excruciating. I had done as he asked and left him alone in his self-imposed prison of a mind, practically the furthest he could be from me. It was best to do as he said just to avoid dealing with his nastiness.

In the afternoon, I texted Gon to see what he was doing and got a message that he had some business to do regarding his father. I was on my own for dinner. I stopped at a franchised sandwich restaurant near the Nostrad's mansion, feelings deserving of their largest meal and some chips and a cookie. Since I was lonely and had been moping around, I was splurging on myself tonight. When I came out, with my dinner in hand, I was slammed into the redheaded creep from two days ago.

"Yuki-san!" the man exclaimed in surprise. "Hello. You okay? I bumped you pretty hard."

"Uhh… Fine."

"Do you work around here, too? I'm not trying to stalk you or anything," he added quickly when my face must have given away my concern. "By the way, you're still looking fantastic."

I looked down at my plain white T-shirt, and knew his compliment was a fib. "And you're still dipping into the kiddy pool."

"Ah, a silver-tongued lady, I like it. I also like those little leather shorts. Very pretty on you." He grinned and followed me down the sidewalk. "Going somewhere?"

I used my head to point in the direction I was headed.

Eying the bag in my hand, he taunted, "Looks like you have an exciting dinner ahead of you."

"Yep."

"With your boyfriend?"

"Nop." I started walking faster, but he was hot on my heels.

"Your boyfriend can't take his girl out on a Friday night?"

_Damn it._ I didn't know what his deal was or why it was so hard for him to take a hint. He probably thought I was lying about my boyfriend. I had a boyfriend. I had a boyfriend, who had very strong opinions about guys who hit on me and invaded my personal space.

"I hope that boyfriend of yours treats you right." He slowly walked backwards, so he could still see me. "Otherwise, I'd feel the need to steal you away."

A chill ran up my spine. The man was jumping right on the creepy train. I went straight to my bike and climbed on it.

He handed me the helmet and asked, "What is it going to take to get you to have a drink with me?"

"A miracle."

"Come on, don't play hard to get."

"Oh, I'm not playing. I _am_ hard to get." I pushed the helmet onto my head.

"And I thirst for challenges." He flashed me that charmingly pseudo-innocent smile. "Good night, Yuki-san. Maybe we'll run into each other again."

I put the bike into gear and accelerated away from the curb.

* * *

I entered the Grandview Hotel's reception area late in the evening and was resigned to find a bored-looking Killua sitting so casually on one table, looking nothing like a poisoned person expecting an excruciating pain in the next few days.

My step faltered when I spotted the voluptuous hotel receptionist on the arm of the chair next to him. She was smiling from ear to ear at something he had said; her sloe eyes were bright and aloft. When she set her acrylic-tipped fingers on his knee and laughed, the sound scraped over my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

What the hell?

My first thought was that I shouldn't be so surprised. I knew she'd got a thing for him. Why wouldn't she, he'd got that dark, bad-boy vibe that girls couldn't resist. My second thought was wonderment that he hadn't taken advantage of her crush in a way. That wasn't very bad-boy like of him.

Or maybe he _had_ taken advantage, but she just wanted more. That was much more bad-boy like.

I pushed the unpleasant thought aside.

Sucking in an encouraging breath of chilled air, I approached their table, meeting the receptionist's gaze when it lifted to mine. "Leave," I ordered.

"Excuse me?"

"Beat it. Take a hike. Get out of my sight."

The lovely brunette bristled, raising her perfectly plucked eyebrows at me. "Hey, what the fu—"

"It's okay," Killua said in his obnoxiously calm voice. "Leave us alone."

She searched his face for something. Then with a jerky nod, she shot me a look of pure unadulterated malice and returned to her desk.

And I was supposed to see her every day. Terrific.

"If you want to give me a pep talk on how I'm supposed to be resting," Killua said as I settled on the vacated chair next to him, "then I have two things to say to that. A, Gon beat you to it and B, I _am_ resting." He held up the tea cup in his hand in a mock toast.

"Really?" I snapped, staring up into his face. "Is that what you call resting? Talking to hoochie-girl? Pretending you enjoy her company?"

"Hoochie-girl is a very unkind nickname," he admonished calmly and lifted his cup to his mouth. "And I wasn't talking to her. _She_ was talking to me. Sometimes, pretending is necessary to get a job done."

"I don't care what that means. She clearly wants you."

He shrugged. "She's had me."

I straightened so fast, my leg hit the foot of the table and almost knocked the tea-saucer onto the floor. "You were with her that time you disappeared after midnight?"

"No, damn it." His brows furrowed at the accusation. "It was not recently. And not seriously," he clarified, "I had an itch for certain information that she offered and I scratched it. End of story."

"Is she the same girl who gave you false information?"

"No, that one is different."

Relief filled me so quickly I got dizzy and deflated into my seat. It didn't last for so long, though. My gaze shifted discreetly to the crescent-shaped desk where the striking receptionist was waving goodbye to a very charmed hotel guest as he tossed a farewell smile in her direction, and the burn in my belly was so potent that I couldn't ignore it. Even if there was no overt interest shown from Killua's side, I was mad that a great deal of his…attention had been once given for another girl and insecure of the receptionist's genre of beauty that was so far and away from my own. And then there was that especially niggling feeling, closer to my heart than my gut: while I'd been missing him, he'd let her talk to him while he'd been refusing to talk to me.

Disappointment pierced me like a blade. It blew the lid of my already volatile mood. An insidious doubt drifted through my mind, making a vulnerable spot inside me fold in on itself.

"I'm going to my apartment." I pushed back from the table, fighting the nausea that rose in my throat. "Have a good night, Killua. And go to hell."

"No. Wait." Killua pushed to his feet with me. "You're jealous. Talk to me."

I turned away. "I don't want to talk to you. Ironic, huh?"

"Don't run." He caught my elbow, spinning me around to face him. "That happened way before I met you, don't be ridiculous. You're upset over nothing."

And I exploded.

"_Nothing_?" I stared at where his hand gripped me. "Who's been ridiculous so far? What about Marcus, who's like a brother to me? Or that nurse? Or that waiter you punched in the face?" I leaned closer and whispered fiercely, "I've never slept with any of them, let alone ignored you and preferred to talk to them instead of you. I sure as hell don't see them every damn day!"

I snatched my hand out of his and raced the distance to the hotel's entrance, desperate to get away before he saw me breaking. Adrenaline was already coursing through my veins from the motorcycle ride, and my anger intensified it. There was a moment of terrible silence before I heard the brisk steps of Killua's boots behind me.

"Yuki, wait."

"Get lost. I can show myself out."

"I'm not done—"

"Well I am!" I pivoted to face him again. "You don't get to talk to me that way. You think you can treat me that way just because you're in a shitty mood? Who do you think you are? Gon and I have done nothing but tolerate you this week. We've tried everything to make you feel better, but you're too damn self-absorbed to appreciate it. You think I have nothing to do but sit around and wait for you to agree to glance at me? That I'll be waiting around for you to throw me a scrap or a bone or some pathetic acknowledgement of my existence? That no matter how hard you push me, I'll keep trying to push back in a pitiful effort to get you to listen to me?"

"Shut your damned mouth," he muttered through gritted teeth. "You're causing a scene."

I was so mad I was panting. The nerve. "Don't tell me what to do," I whisper-yelled, aware of the number of eyes on us. "I'm done letting you call all the shots. Who are you to order me around? The only person who can order me around is my master, and he's not here right now. So back off, rascal billionaire playboy."

Killua grabbed my elbow again. He cast a quick glare around the room and everyone pretended they were deaf. "I call the shots? _I_ call all the shots?" he asked me in complete disbelief. "You have been calling the shots from the very beginning of this relationship, and if you can't see that, then you're either blind or blatantly ignorant."

I didn't understand what he meant, but I pulled my elbow away and pushed against his chest. He moved back easily, giving me no resistance.

He was absolutely infuriating. I wanted to punch him. Punch him and then kiss him, in that order. Why did I still want to kiss him?

Damn it.

I'd been calling all the shots? He was the one with the mood and the temper. He always tried to call the shots. _Don't talk to me. Talk to me. Come to my room. Get out of my room. Don't do anything for me. Landmine. Landmine. Landmine. Shut your damned mouth._

I wished I had something near my mouth that I could bite._  
_

"_I'm_ ignorant?" I balled my fists. It was all I could do not to physically lash out at him. "Why did you tell me about that girl, huh? To hurt me? You think I needed to know that? That I was dying to know all about your man-whoring games? You seriously think that having all these mental images of you and her is the only thing missing from my life right now?" My voice cracked and broke as the words kept bursting out of my mouth. "You know I am an angry troublemaker with tons of insecurities. How could you spit that in my face?"

Killua stilled, his breath left him in a rush. Something in my voice made him go from raging mad to remorseful in a split second. "You're right," he said sincerely, "I shouldn't have told you about that. I wasn't thinking. I had no verbal filter. I made a mistake. People make mistakes."

My mouth curved bitterly. "Well, baby, it's gotten real hard to keep track of your crappy past mistakes."

Killua's gaze narrowed. "Low blow, Yuki, and you know it."

I did, but I was too mad to feel guilty. I was too mad to feel anything but rage. "Let go off me, Killua. I'm not your biggest fan right now." I walked away and spoke to him from over my shoulder. "Forget about me all over again and go back to your tea party with your little giggly hussy. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to be around you right now. I know I won't."

I had scarcely passed the lobby of the hotel when I was spun one-hundred-and-eighty degrees around. Abruptly, he caught me by the waist and crushed me against him. My breath hitched inside my chest.

"Why?" he hissed in my ear. "Why do you keep driving me so fucking crazy?"

"Ugh." I beat my fists against his hard chest, but I couldn't budge him. I shoved him back with everything I had. I even sank my teeth into his pectoral, but all it got me from him was a soft grunt and no freedom. I was caged by six feet of obstinate, domineering male.

"Are you done?" he gritted out.

My face heated. The feel of his warm, steely arm around me was too much. He was so close, if I puckered my lips just right, they'd graze his jaw. I could hear his breathing. I could feel the heat of his anger pouring from his body. Imprisoned by his tight grip, I could hardly breathe. My head spun and my resistance began to dwindle almost against my will. With an audible exhale and with a need I was helpless against, I melted into him. It was instinct. Relief. And desire. My body had got a mind of its own apparently, and he was both the tormentor and the tamer.

Unshed angry tears stung my eyes. "What's _wrong_ with you? I want to get out of here and you're screwing that up for me." My voice quivered. "Y—you're screwing up everything for me."

"Shh." He cupped the back of my head with one hand and pressed his cheek against my temple. "I need to get you alone. You need to be held now," he exhaled. "I shouldn't have kept you away from me."

"You had one hell of a reason," I shot back with a renewed bite of bitterness. "Who knows. Maybe you wanted to save up some energy in case your booty call decided to call you in the middle of the night."

"That's a given. You're quite the energy sucker." Killua sighed. "Come now, I'll explain everything to you."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Yes, you are."

"Like hell I am—"

"We can either do this the easy way, Yuki, or you can choose to be difficult." His tone took on the deadly edge that made my pulse quicken. "Before you open your mouth, take one look at me and tell me if you see a guy who gives up so easily. Because I'll chase you down the end of earth to get you to listen to me. Your choice." The way he looked right now—face hard, gaze narrowed and determined—I knew it'd be a bad idea to to play a battle of wills with him in a roomful of people. He nodded approvingly at my silence. "Let's go."

He laced his fingers tightly through mine and led me through the crowd back inside. By the time we reached the reception area, I risked a quick glance at the receptionist who bristled at our return, her face a mix of curious and condescending as she scrutinized me. As we passed by her, Killua lifted our joined hands and kissed my fingertips, his icy glare intensely focused on her face, making her shrug and drop her gaze instantly.

I felt foolish when he did that. Like a needy child who couldn't fight her own battles.

Killua walked briskly and I hurried to keep up. We rounded the bank of elevators, and he led me to an empty, darkish hallway where no one seemed to pass by at this hour of the night. He seemed to know this particular spot by heart… Or maybe by experience.

Irritation burned through me once again, more insistent, more powerful.

Some people cry when jealous; others get downright vindictive. I, being an atypical sort of person, became slightly homicidal.

Waiting until Killua and I were completely alone, I wrenched my hand free and I rounded on him. Catching him off guard, I put my hands on his chest and shoved him with enough strength to send him backward. He stumbled from the impact, his back hitting the opposite wall with a sickening thud. He winced and cursed softly, his hand pressing to his ribs.

Pressing the advantage, I was on him in an instant, my hands fisting his v-neck collar. "You let her put her hand on you again, and I'm breaking _your_ fingers."

Out of all the responses he could have hit me with, the only one I got was his self-satisfied, salacious smirk.

My teeth gritted. I lifted up my hand to slap him—because by God, there was no one on the planet right now that needed to be slapped as much as he did. But as I went to swat at his face, he wrapped fingers like steel bands around my wrist. I grunted, then tried to hit him with the other hand, but he grabbed that one, too.

He made a _tsk_-ing sound. "Wrong parts of my body to put your hands on, beastie," he seethed, looking down at me. "Wanna mark your territory? Do it right."

"Stop it," I croaked. "You're making me hate you."

Something passed briefly over his face, but it was gone before I could identify it. Releasing my wrists in one swift motion, he lifted me by the waist, hitching one arm beneath my rear to urge my legs to wrap around his waist. When he carried me over to the entryway table of the hallway and swept his free hand urgently across the surface to clear an empty seating spot for me, I couldn't react with more than a feeble moan of protest. His arm dropped me onto the table and I landed on my butt.

Stepping between my parted knees, he hugged me around the hips. Chills broke out down my spine when his hands skated over my ribs and around towards my back in soothing caresses. Even though he could not use his aura, the touch of his fingers was like pure electricity.

"You can't hate me," he breathed gruffly. "Do you feel this? This is what makes us keep coming back, despite everything we've gone through. This is why I never left, even though I knew you might kill me any second, and this is why, despite what I say or do, you can't walk away. Because when my hands are on you, you trust me. You turn your mind off and trust me. You trust me to make you feel better. To take care of you. You just feel what I do to you and what you do to me."

All fight left me. My arms fell to my sides, my palms pressing flat against the table. I caught my breath with every slide of his fingers.

"See?" He nuzzled his cheek against mine. "See how your breathing is slowing down? You're not thinking with your head. You're just feeling. Right now, you trust me with your life. You know I'd do anything for you, you know that I'd never hurt you. You know _me_. You know you're not like anyone else. You just need to stop listening to everything else."

Frustrated, my cheeks flaming, I covered my face with my hands.

He was right. He was right about all of it. And I did want him to make me feel better, in a way that made no sense. He filled an emptiness that had always been a gaping chasm inside me. It was like he created it, but at the same time, he was the only one who could fill it, too.

"Look at me."

"No."

He kissed my hands, which were still covering my face. "I won't ask again. _Look at me_."

I stilled at the familiar commanding tone. I removed my hands, but kept my head bowed and stared at his black T-shirt.

Bending forward, he set his palms flat over the table, caging me with both arms. His gaze was soft and warm on my flushed face. "When are you going to stop running from me and listen?"

"I'm tired," I confessed. "I'm exhausted from fighting with myself over you. Going through these crazy highs and lows… Making excuses for you while you do nothing but push me away."

"I never wanted to do that."

"But you could. You wouldn't talk to me… you wouldn't listen…"

"I couldn't." His exhale was heavy with dismay. "I just… It had to be this way. I was reeling. I knew I was going to be pissy and irritable all week. The longer you stayed with me, the more risk there is of you hating me. I told you there are parts of myself you don't want to see."

"You shut me out. It hurt. I hate hurting. Makes me crazy. Crazier."

"I was hurting, too. Couldn't you see that?"

"How could I, when you didn't want me to see?" I looked at him. "You choose to show me certain parts of you. And when the other hidden parts show themselves, you cover it all up, shut down and then you do something stupid. Like squaring off with your bestfriend and telling your girlfriend about your wild sexual escapades."

"From the first day we met I warned you I was a fuck-up and an asshole. You shouldn't blame me if you didn't believe me."

"Warning me is supposed to excuse you when you actually screw up?" When he didn't answer, I went on quickly, "We can't go anywhere if you never talk to me. I can't live with the cold shoulder. And I can't hypothesize and guess what you're thinking and feeling all the time. If you don't open up, then—"

"I don't know how to open up," he interrupted, his eyes closing. "I want to learn how. I do, but I can't help but feel that if I let you in too much, you're going to bolt. When things get too intense, your first response is to run away." His blank eyes opened blearily. The green in them was static. "And there's nothing about my life that is underwhelming."

My arms crossed as I leaned my head back against the window behind me. I didn't argue with him on that one. How could I, when he was right? Still: "You wanted my trust and you have it, but that's all I can give you. In return, all I have is just a pile of things you won't tell me. I'm just like anybody else, only allowed to see what you choose for me to see. Other than that, I've got nothing."

"You have me," he protested. "You have all of me."

But I didn't. I was figuring him out, learning him bit by bit, but he was still a mystery to me in so many ways. I rarely prodded him with questions because I didn't want to push if he wasn't ready. But his past was getting in the way now. If I let it, it would keep dictating his choices and rule us.

"I need more." My cheek pressed to the cold glass. "This Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde thing is wearing me out. I'm not having you shutting down on me again. I need to know what I'm dealing with. I need to be able to understand you so I know how to excuse you. I'm tired of being a transparent, open book to you while you hoard all your little pieces."

With a sigh, he straightened. His sharp gaze shifted sideways and away, his profile rigid.

Silence surrounded us for the next minute or so. A fat drop of rain hit the window, followed by another.

Killua's chest lifted and fell on a deep exhale. "I had a brother."

I tried to not tense up and reveal my surprise. Or my agitated excitement and desperate hunger to learn more about his family.

"He was good, pure; kind," he said softly. "Everyone liked him, liked being around him. He was so brave, so strong he raised himself all alone. Without any help. He was loved by everyone. Everyone except my family. They thought he was a bad seed, that he was turning me into the opposite of what I was supposed to be. I wanted to get him out of their world, and let him grow up in a place where he was wanted and loved. Give him the life he deserved. I tried, but I couldn't."

I looked at him, studying his stony profile, but I didn't move or say anything, afraid to lose the moment.

My heart ached at the picture he painted of the children he and his brother once been—scared and hurting and feeling like outsiders in their own house. Forced to live a life they didn't like, enjoy or want.

"He was only ten when he died. He was so little, so unready. A ten year old isn't supposed to know about sacrifice. Most kids fear death and even scare easily at the sight of anything ghoulish. But not Alluka. He didn't mind throwing himself at his own death when he thought that my life was threatened. That's how he died. Trying to save me."

He looked out the rain-soaked window, breathing heavily. "I was the one who found his body. That moment changed my life forever. I was also so young, but that memory was so deeply embedded in my brain that I could never forget it. I was so angry. At everyone. I bolted up, walled myself in my own mind. Big Brother believed grieving was for the weak, and so shutting down became my default switch. After a year, I got worse. That house made my skin crawl… made me sick of everything. I couldn't stand it anymore, so I ran away."

His lips parted on a sigh, as if the more he let out, the lighter he felt. The concealed memory must have been weighing him down all these years.

"I thought a part of me died with Alluka," he whispered. "I thought I'd never be alright. I had nowhere to go, nothing to look forward to, until Gon came into my life. He showed me how to be myself, and in a way, he taught me how to live. He became the brother that I lost. I couldn't give Alluka what he needed, but I could try to help Gon."

There was something about the sound of his sigh that made my body lean forward and ruined my intention to be quiet. I slung my legs around him and leaned my cheek against his heart, surprised to hear the violent beating. He made no sound and shed no tears, but his heartbeat and the relentless tapping of the rain against the glass spoke for him, hard and angry. "That's why you don't usually come to these things. It hurts to think about him."

"I'd do anything not to feel that way again." His voice was hoarse with emotion. "I can't allow anyone to do like Alluka. The idea of someone I care about dying for me, suffering because of me… Of having to go through that horrible guilt all over again… It takes me to a dark place," he said quietly. "I'm not strong enough to deal with it again."

"Shh." I rubbed the quivering muscles of his back. This was another scar to add to his collection, another memory he'd always have in the back of his mind.

"Your brother wouldn't have done what he did if he didn't know, with absolute certainty, that you were worth protecting," I said. "He only thought of you. Only how much he loved you. I think he wanted you to have someone in your life who loved you like he did, and look, you do. You have people who care about you as much as he did, if not more. He knew you'd be _that_ strong. That you'd grow up to be the person you wanted to be."

He was shocked into stillness for a few moments, before he wrapped his arms around me, tucking my entire frame under his chin. His grip on me was excruciatingly tight, but I didn't complain.

"Of course," I murmured, "if only he could see what an annoying hellion you'd become…" His silent laugh buoyed me. I listened as his raging heartbeat slowed and his breathing returned to normal. For long moments, I just held on for a little while, so grateful that he was in my arms again and that we were together. After the long awful week, nothing else was important.

I straightened so I could see his face. His gaze softened, but remained haunted whatsoever.

He ran his fingers through my side bangs. "Don't leave me."

"You're stuck with me, tart. Get used to it."

The tension in his posture visibly eased. "I loved Alluka. He's the only one I ever loved, and he left me."

"You have it all backwards. I only have to leave if you refuse to let me in. Nothing bad is going to happen if you let people in. I mean, look, you told me something personal and nothing exploded."

Almost as soon as the words left my mouth, there was a loud _boom_ in the air_—_a lightning bolt flashed through the sky, followed by an earth-shattering thunder. Eyes wide, Killua bolted upright and looked around with manic-looking eyes, and I laughed at the wonderfully impeccable timing.

"Shit." He relaxed with a sigh, then arched an eyebrow at my poorly suppressed laughter. "Glad my misery is amusing to you."

"Sorry. C'mere." My arms stretched out until he towered over me again. Cupping his jaw in my hands, I tilted his head down. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

He snorted. "You ruined me. From the first day I saw you. I've been fucked up ever since."

"Gee. Thanks."

His faint smile widened. "Never a dull moment."

* * *

We made our way back outside the small hallway with my hand in his. I was uncomfortably aware of the receptionist's scrutiny as we stood waiting in front of the bank of elevators. I stared ahead, but I could _feel_ her eyes on me despite the considerable distance between us and her desk. The knot I'd had in my gut earlier returned, tighter than before. I hated her irrationally. Hated that she had a piece of what was rightfully mine, and the fact that she wanted to get more didn't make me want to hug her. Maybe around the neck.

Killua stabbed the call button and glanced at me. Then, as if sensing my moodiness, he moved to stand behind me and pressed his chest against my back. His fingers linked with mine, holding my hands up by my shoulders. He rested his chin atop the crown of my head. "Don't think about her," he said, a smile lending a lilt to his voice. "And if you do, just remember that while she was standing between the wall and her desk, I was standing right between your—"

"Hush!" I admonished, flushing.

His deep, husky laugh drew the attention of every female in sight, and I couldn't hold back a smile at hearing the rare sound. "Arms, beastie. I was going to say your _arms_. Your heart, that is pure and innocent. Get your mind out of the gutter."

A young couple appeared next to us, and moved over to stand in front of the car we were waiting for. Releasing one of my hands, Killua flicked his fingers at them in rude dismissal. Mystified and without a word, they complied and moved to another elevator. The man stood next to the woman he must have loved, his hand moving to the small of her back to steady her as she leaned into him with a laugh. They looked so happy.

My head lolled against Killua's shoulder. "I don't want us to fight anymore."

"Beastie." His lips brushed over my temple. "We don't fight. We just scare the hell out of each other."

"We're seriously dysfunctional." We'd annoyed each other. Deliberately. We'd lied, hidden secrets, and gotten nearly insane with jealousy. "You do realize that we haven't followed any of our rules, don't you?"

"Rules are meant to be broken." A ding alerted that our car was stopping on our floor. When the doors opened, I took a step forward and my brows rose when Killua didn't follow after me. "Give me ten minutes. I have something to take care of. Won't take too long."

I nodded, too emotionally raw to argue about anything anymore. I backed away into the elevator, holding his hand until distance pulled our fingers apart. "Don't be late. I missed you."

"I missed you, too." He smiled and shoved his hands casually into his pants pockets. "I'll show you how much when I'm back. Wait for me in my room."

I blew him a kiss and watched him wink as the elevator doors closed.

Pressing the number fifty button, I scooted to the back and leaned against the wall. After I completed an elevator ride up to the twentieth floor, the elevator dinged, and a man slipped in. He managed to not touch the sensors on the doors and they shut behind him. I was about to apologize for not paying attention and holding the doors for him when I noticed who it was.

The redheaded, stalking creep from today's afternoon.

I immediately tensed.

"Yuki-san." He nodded his head at me in greeting. "We've met twice a day. What a coincidence."

There was never anything coincidental about any of our 'meetings.' The hair on my nape prickled. I moved as far away from him as I could in the small space, my muscles tensing in preparation.

"Oh, my god, seriously?" I glared at him, my face a mask of righteous fury. "Listen to me carefully and let's be clear about something," I said, a threat ringing in my voice, "if you try to follow me again, you'll do so without the benefits of your legs."

"Is that so?" The man's mouth twitched with shameless amusement, not even trying to deny that he was stalking me. "You gonna cut my legs? Or maybe ask your boyfriend to do it for you?"

"No, I'll do it myself. He likes to go straight for the head."

The man laughed. "Is that how he got through yours?"

That made me scowl. "What do you want?"

He took a step toward me, one that was meant to be intimidating. And it was, I wouldn't lie.

I took one step back.

"You."

Crossing my arms, I looked up at the decorative needle above the elevator doors that marked the passing floors. I wanted to get out of here right now. "Maybe I'm just not interested."

"You will be before you walk out of this elevator."

"Nope. Don't think so." After dealing with Killua, the last thing I needed was another domineering guy trying to get through me. "I'm not in the mood for you now."

His eyebrows twitched over his laughing eyes. "You're not? Strange," he said quietly, too quietly, like he was in shock of something. "I thought your boyfriend managed to put you in the mood. Which is rather impressive, I gotta admit, since he's supposed to be writhing in his death throes just the way I wanted him to." His words and the steel casualness in his tone made my chest tight.

I blinked.

And blinked.

When the meaning behind his words sank in, the bottom of my stomach quivered madly.

_Holy shit, he's the vengeful man after Killua! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!_

I suddenly felt jumbled and off my game. My pulse pounded in my ears and my head spun with the desire to tear into this man… while a bruised spot in my chest no longer viewed him as an enemy. When the laughing veil slipped, hurt and revenge was in his eyes. I recognized it because I fought the urge for a lot of years. And I lost for the most part when I found less…violent ways to exact it. This man had got no stake in this, only his hunger for vengeance.

I was vibrating with anticipation despite my efforts to stay calm and composed through this situation that I never thought I'd find myself in. My thoughts raced through ways to get out of this.

"Alright, Yuki-san." He faced me, giving me every bit of his attention. Then he said the scariest four words in the history of language: "We need to talk."

* * *

**A/N:** I'm gonna stop here, but you can tell Beastie is going to have a big problem to deal with.

Yes, I killed poor, lil' Alluka, but I kind of like my interpretation of him. Don' worry, there will definitely be more details about his death in the next chapters. If you have any theories regarding that, however, it'd be fun to hear them.

Next chapter: we have ugly truths, emotional breakdowns, plot twists, and the guest appearance of a very special canon character. Stay tuned!

As always: Review, ladies. (And gentlemen?) My 17 year-old Kil appreciates it and smirks salaciously at me every time someone reviews. Are you tempted enough to click the button now?


	40. The Heir: Part I

**A****/N:** Hi guys! THANKYOUS: _PetitL _(you never have to do a damn thing to get credited) and_ KiGaMi99 _(you're a lovely, lovely woman). My reviewers (you inspire me), those who contacted me on tumblr with the coolest words (made my day), and lazy lurkers (stop being so shy.)

I've earned so many awesome reviewers in the past month, but I've also lost touch with a few avid ones. If you're still reading the story, shoutout? Holler? Say hi? It's kind of sad watching you guys go.

Again, if you still can't imagine a seventeen-year-old Kil and Gon, check this: http(:/(/)oi43(.tinypic).com(/9pxk3l).jpg with no parethenses.

More mysteries are folding over in this chapter. I know, I know. The plot requires me to take you guys step by step towards every revelation. Again, please bear with me. I'll unfold everything in the right time. It's not so easy. Have faith, pretty, pretty please.

* * *

_**41. The Heir: Part I** _

* * *

_Teenage boys had pimples, body odor and no control over their own bodies. Despite being a seventeen year old, Killua Zaoldyeck was not your typical teenage boy. His skin was smooth and clean. He smelled like midnight and white bedsheets. And he had utter control over himself and the females who met him._

_At twelve, he was a rebellious kid with more than one special thing about him, but still nothing to indicate the panjandrum of infamy he would soon command. It was well-remembered how his emerald eyes shone bright with childlike mischief, how his smile was cheeky in its roguishness, how his cheekbones and angular jaw were still preternatural and premature. Driven and daring, he had a self-generated urge and determination with which he discovered the world and himself.  
_

_Five years had passed since then. Five years in which a boy had turned into a young man._

_And discover himself Killua did._

_Confident, swaggering walk. _

_All black ensemble. _

_Tall, lean _and_ built body._

_Quirked left eyebrow._

_He would turn his smirk on his prey of choice and that was it. Teenage girls and young women alike would follow him into the room he wanted. They would emerge after an hour, sometimes two, sometimes—only for the lucky ones—even an entire night and they'd look at the world through new eyes. Killua Zaoldyeck was kryptonite, Lindt chocolate truffles and the little black dress personified. There was no one's type he wasn't, no heart he couldn't flutter with a look, no pants he couldn't drop with a smile._

_Why? What was so different about him? What had made him so preternaturally irresistable?_

_It was that Killua Zaoldyeck had a dangerous mind. He just knew his way around his prey. He observed, learned, and perfected. He could think like __an eagle and see like one. __He'd sneak up on his victims, coat their minds with thoughts of his talents. His cavalry was his body, the way his well-defined muscles were ten times stronger than a guy his age, the way his long-fingered hand could strike with impossible precision and quickness, the way his tight, taut waist tapered into long legs that could run one mile in a minute, the way he carried his six feet of height with the regality of a King's heir._

_No one knew anything about him, just that he was a blank slate for them to draw their fantasies upon. They saw what he wanted them to see._

_There was so much more that they didn't see. Much, much more.  
_

_"I missed you, too." Killua pushed his hands deep into his pockets. "I'll show you how much when I'm back. Wait for me in my room."_

_As soon as the doors of the elevator closed, Killua's smile was gone and a scowl rolled in its place._

_He took the long hallway out of the elevators area and made a beeline toward the spacious reception room, his stride hurried and determined. Pulling one hand out of his pocket, he slammed it hard down on the crescent-shaped desk, causing the receptionist who stood behind it to flinch; turning her panic-stricken face to look at him. He caught her gaze, held it, darted his eyes to the left in a silent order for her to come after him, and turned to leave. After she collected herself from the shock, the brunette tucked something into her blazer and followed after him with a smirk.  
_

_She caught him in the hallway near the hotel's waiting room. As soon as he saw her approaching, Killua held out his hand, not even bothering with greeting words. _

_The receptionist slipped her hand into her blazer and pulled out a sheaf of papers, placing them in his waiting palm. "This is everything you wanted," she assured. "A detailed check-in & check-out. His arrivals, his departures, guests services… everything with thoughtful consideration."_

_Killua flipped through the pages. "His phone calls? Faxes? Incoming packages?"_

_"All in."_

_He nodded briskly. "I want to know everyone who ever visitted him when he stayed here. Did you manage that?"_

_____"Yes. I put everything in. Even the bodywash brand he was using." She winked. "__Anything for you, boss."  
_

_____Killua glanced at her then, and the brunette smiled in that seductively vampy way she had, a way that used to end up with them breathless somewhere, but now did absolutely nothing to him. "Now that's the attitude I like for my employees to have," he snarked back at her, his tone dry and flat.  
_

_____"Good employees get treats." The girl non-so-subtly raked him from head to toe in a way that was totally indecent. "What's mine?"_

_____"Ah. About that." Killua shrugged. Yikes. This was awkward. _"Listen, Daisy—"

_"Darcie!" she corrected heatedly._

_"__Darcie. Of course. __Oops.__"__ He gave her what could only be described as an apologetic smirk. "__Listen, Darcie. __I'm not into you. I will _never_ be into you. __Didn't your mother warn you to stay away from guys like me?__ I'm twisted and very selfish by nature."_

_"That's not true," she said, voice low and husky, lust and sin resonating out of every syllable. She licked her top lip. "I happen to remember you were __very capable of giving. You were a giver all over the place, __and not just in bed; you also gave a lot in—"_

_"Whoa, let's not kiss and tell like 6th graders," he interrupted nonchalantly, folding the papers in his hands into a roll. He faced her with cold eyes. "You and I? Not happening. After this—" he waved the roll of papers in the space between their faces "—our business is done. I have paid my debts. Don't associate with me, don't look at me, __don't_ even get close to within a mile from me. If you see me coming, I suggest you run in the opposite direction. Do we have an understanding?"

_She blinked at him in shock. "What? Why?"  
_

_"Don't ask questions."_

_Her lips thinned._

_This girl had made herself available once, and he made it his rule to avoid overly eager girls a second time. Because g__irls like her reminded him of every infuriating thing about his life, about his past. Girls like her objectified him, the way his family did. Viewed him as the grand prize, a machine void of emotions. They went crazy over his frontage, his inherent smarts, the talents he possessed. __They only salivated over the outside of him.__ They couldn't see the fucked-up, broken mess inside. They didn't even care to see._

_"Is this all because of little miss _thing_ of yours?" Darcie's hands went to her hips. "What happened to you? She's not even your type."  
_

_Killua scoffed a little laugh. "And _you_ are?"_

_He knew this girl was so obviously a different type of beauty than Yuki was—stacked and statuesque, exotic and, yes, erotic, whereas he thought that Yuki's beauty was delicate and doll-like in the details: in her blush, which came out when she was angry, or arguing, or after she was kissed by him, or… well, anytime, really; in her small smiles, because she liked to hide the fact that she was a big, goofy grinner; in her stormy eyes, which were narrowed and accusing; and in the way that the curve of her head tucked perfectly into the angle of his chin when he held her in his arms.  
_

_For so many years, Killua Zaoldyeck had managed to build a wall of steel around himself, around his mind and his heart. He had guarded his heart by pretending that it didn't exist; the tragedy of Alluka convinced him that loving and being loved always led to a catastrophe; too many times he turned girls away after a night's fulfillment and after getting what he wanted from them. That was all everyone was ever to him. A means of achieving his plans. Nothing could stand in his way. They all melted like ice to fire when they stood before him. He never,ever wanted more._

_And then _she_ came along.  
_

_Pulling him out of his thoughts, Darcie stepped closer to him. __"You can talk all you want about giving this monogamy thing a try, but it's not who you are." __She traced two fingers along the v-neck of his T-shirt and lightly caressed his upper chest. "You're not boyfriend material, and your little pixie should _somehow_ know that…"_

_Killua frowned. ____The thought of getting in the middle of this chicks drama made him cringe, but__ the thought of this girl mistreating Yuki was enough to make him see red. _

_This girl could ruin it for him. She could ruin everything he was working for.  
_

_He curled his hand around her two wandering fingers in a crushing grip____ and curved them backwards_, so that the tips of her long nails dangerously grazed her throat. She squeaked, tiny mewls of pain spilling from her mouth. 

_Killua bared his teeth in something that was too sharp to be a smile. "If you _think_ about bothering her, talking to her, or so much as _looking_ at her in the wrong way, you and I will have a big, big problem."  
_

_Darcie croaked a little laugh. "She needs you to fight her own battles, huh? Kinda sad, isn't she?"  
_

_"Says the twenty-two year old woman who's still hung up on a __one_-_night_-_stands_ teenage boy." Killua thrust her nails a little further into her skin. "_I'm warning you, Daisy. __Keep the claws in, or so watch me make good use of them." __His smile made her entire body shiver.__ "Okay?__"  
_

_Darcie looked hard into his face, she stared at it for at least a minute or two before she said anything. "Okay. I'll keep my distance."_

_He let go off her in one abrupt shove, and she ungracefully stumbled a step backward, rubbing her dying fingers._

_"Good girl," he murmured coldly. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pack of rainbow-flavored mentos, and in the mother of all asshole moves, threw it at her. "Here's your treat."_

_There were bad boys before him and there would be bad boys after him. But nobody could match Killua Zaoldyeck._

_Killua Zaoldyeck was capable of turning anyone's world on its head—including his own world._

_And very, very soon, he would._

* * *

"How about we ply him with alcohol?"

"That won't work, Yuki." Gon shook his head. "Killua's immune to toxin substances. He has a strong healing factor, direct tolerance and a speed of recovery from insobriety and resistance. It's next to impossible to get him drunk."

I groaned. "Well then you come up with a way to tell him without him completely losing his shit."

Gon smiled apologetically at me. "I don't think there's any, Yuki. No matter the way, he's going to get mad."

"Just… do we have some alcohol stocked in here? Just in case."

"I think Leorio left some vodka the last time he was here." He squeezed my arm. "Chill, Yuki. We'll find a way to handle him."

After I'd safely emerged out of the elevator I'd shared with that crazy stalking man, I'd told Gon about it all. His decision was to tell Killua, too. And so, I'd decided to tell him once he got back, and the idea made everything want to come out of my body in liquid form.

The way he'd react to this mess to consider… I winced inwardly just thinking about it. And then there was Marcus' reaction. If he knew about this, he would try to kidnap me and drive me away so Gary could lock me in my old bedroom indefinitely—

"Shit." Remembering that I didn't call Marcus back in almost a week, I checked my phone with unsteady hands to see if he'd already tried to reach me. I cringed when I saw that my voice-mail was full.

_God_. _It's like a bloodbath in here_.

Finally, the thin, shaky wall between me and disasters was fully gone.

In the previous three weeks, I'd learned that my boyfriend had been poisoned beyond his capabilities, one of my boyfriend's brothers was possibly hoping to scare me off with a serial-killer-like note, one of my boyfriend's enemies was probably hoping to use me as a revenge attack, and one of my boyfriend's ex-flings was definitely hoping to push me out of her way.

Really, how much was a girl supposed to take?

Just when by some miracle you find a way through life where there's someone who's willing to accept you with all your baggage and emotional scars, the universe relentlessly finds a thousand ways to make a big joke out you.

I heard the sound of a keycard sliding through the lock of the front door and sprang off the stool. "It's him!" I stage-whispered on my way to the foyer with Gon on my heels. "Smile and make it convincing."

The door swung open, and Jei walked in. He froze on the threshold with his suit jacket slung over one arm and raised his eyebrows at the wide grins we greeted him with. "Um… Hello, creepy residents."

"You?" My shoulders slumped as I frowned at him. "Why are you here?"

"Hey, Jei." Gon managed a smile. God bless him. He sounded genuinely welcoming.

"Hi, buddy."

"Why do you have a keycard to this suite?" I asked.

Jei threw his jacket into my arms and waltzed his way into the kitchen. "I don't. I saw Killua downstairs and he gave me his key. Keep the door open. He's coming up in a minute," he replied as he grabbed three non-alcoholic beers out of the refrigerator.

"Okay, and please make yourself at home," I muttered sarcastically, tossing the jacket over the arm of the sectional sofa. Gon moved to stand next to Jei behind the kitchen island and I sat back on my barstool. "How did he look like when you saw him?"

Jei pried the caps off the bottles and shrugged. "He looked like he always does—poker-faced and tight-assed as hell." He handed me and Gon each a bottle before he looked at me. "So you want to tell him about Stalker Sweet-talker. Well, then. Enjoy the last peaceful sixty seconds of the night."

Ah, God… I took a long pull on my lime-flavored beer. Jei was right. Something really bad was going to happen tonight. I'd realized that Killua would never allow that vengeful man to simply stroll into his hotel in an attempt to stalk me, then just stroll back out again. Aimi's brother had only _punched_ me and Killua had almost blown his head off his neck if I didn't beg him to stop. His reaction to what happened tonight had to be violent.

"No shit," Jei agreed. He crossed one arm over his chest and leaned into the counter. "Killua is inherently aggressive. His first knee-jerk reaction is to get rid of the obstacle that's standing in his way."

"But he's smart. He knows his line and he's always open for negotiation," Gon argued.

"Debatable," Jei countered. "Especially in this case. He tends to sweep away from customary when Yuki's involved."

"Ah, you're right…" Gon sighed wistfully. "It's hard to predict how he's going to react these days."

Jei clinked the necks of our bottles together. "Here's to best-laid plans."

"Ugh." I sat back in my chair. I hated that they made it sound like I was turning Killua into the unreasonable temper type. Or that he had a perfectly uncomplicated life before I came along and turned it all to hell.

It hurt a little. And it hurt mostly because it couldn't be more true.

"What are you three old ladies whispering about?"

We all turned our attention to Killua, who was approaching us with a sheaf of eight-to-ten papers in his hand. I saw it all happening in slow motion, how the words that I was going to say to him would leave my mouth like a car skidding and screeching on the brakes, trying not to hit anything.

But I didn't want to seem like I was anything but suave and under control… and I probably over-did it a little bit.

"How's my favorite boy in York Shin? Other than unbelievably dashing?"

Killua made a face at that and piped up next to my stool, saying what everyone was probably thinking, "You okay, beastie?"

"What, can't a girl flirt with her boy without it sounding weird?"

"A girl can. _You_ can't. And speaking of weirdos…" He smirked at Jei. "Why's the pipsqueak looking all cool and suited up? If you're trying to be me so hard, I suggest you do something 'bout that hair. And that face."

"If by 'cool' you mean 'conceited and unlikeable,' then no, I am so not trying to be you," Jei countered.

Killua stared at him for a minute or two before he shrugged and muttered, "Bite me."

"You said you'd be nicer to me."

"Sorry. Bite me, _please_."

"Better."

Killua looked at the tumbler of Vodka set for him on the table. "Are we playing some kind of a drinking game?"

"Actually, this one's for you." Gon thrust the tumbler in Killua's hand. "You might need it. Have a seat."

Killua lifted the glass to his nose and cringed at the smell. "Why am I drinking this?"

Gon replied, "Yuki's about to tell you something, and I want you to just take big breaths—or big chugs—and think before you act."

"What is it?" Killua looked quizzically at me.

I took a deep, shaky breath. "Something bad happened. You should sit down."

"Okay." He reluctantly moved to the barstool next to mine in that way of his—with barely-contained energy bubbling just under the surface, giving him an unnerving intensity. My heart was pounding when he swiveled his stool toward me and held his drink with his hand, giving me every bit of attention. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this nervous or sick to my stomach.

Gon scrubbed a hand over his white face while Jei crossed his arms. Both of them listened intently and expectantly. The room became frighteningly still and quiet. After a moment, it became too fraught with tension. I felt like I was on a dark stage with a mic and a too-bright puddle of spotlight pointed down directly on me.

"Okay. Here goes." I met Killua's eyes and bit the bullet. "I ran into the man that has poisoned you—"

His tumbler crashed in his hand, startling all of us, including Killua. He moved in a blurry swiftness, catching the goblet before the colorless liquid could spatter over. He went inside the kitchen in a rush. Stepping briskly on the pedal of the trash can, he threw the broken shards away, shattering it further.

I jumped off the stool when he came back. "D-did you cut yourself? Let me see."

"I'm fine," he said soberly. "Sit down, Yuki."

I complied automatically, my legs shaking as I climbed back onto my stool. Good move, because I thought I'd fall dizzy from the insane rate of my pulse.

"Where did you see him?" Killua asked, very gently.

"Uhh, well. He was in the elevator and rode up to our floor but didn't get off when I did. In fact, he is everywhere I go. I think he's been stalking me all week. H-he asked me for a drink—twice—and I said no. Jei was there the first time, actually—"

Jei cut me off, "Tell him how that man said he wanted to steal you away."

Killua's head swiveled at that.

"No!" I shot Jei a narrow-eyed look. _What the hell is he doing?_ "I mean… It's not a big deal, okay?" I squeezed Killua's knee. "He just wants to provoke you. Don't give him that, please. He is not worth it. I need you to stay calm and promise me you won't take any unnecessary risks."

"We have to make sure we do this right or bad things could happen," Gon qualified. "You understand what I mean, right, Killua?"

_Don't get too worked up and activate your poison in the process by losing the frail control you have over your Zetsu_, that was what Gon meant_._

"Please," Jei bitched with a snort, "bad things _are_ going to happen anyway. You owe that man, dude. Big time. That was all but unexpected. You can never run away from your past. Your past will always be one step ahead to round on you."

"Jei," I warned. "Not now."

"What I'm just saying! That man wants to hurt you by doing what's worse than hurting _you_. Which is coming after those who mean to you the most because, well, you did the same to him. You know, payback. Tit for tat. The remarkable form of immaturity."

"_Jei_."

"I'm just saying—"

"Well don't." I glared, and Gon was a saint for backing me up with his hand on Jei's shoulder, silencing him.

Killua remained quiet. And still. I couldn't get any idea about what he was thinking and feeling from his body language. He was closed right and restrained, rigidly in control. He wasn't even looking at me. Or anyone, for that matter. He blinked, and that was it. The idea of him ranting and raging was bad enough. This was so much worse. For a second, I thought he'd probably didn't hear me well. It wasn't until he exhaled slowly that I knew for certain he hadn't missed a word.

Calmly, he crossed his arms before he spoke without looking at me. His voice was soft and smooth as he asked, "Did he touch you?"

"No."

He nodded once.

The energy in the room was beyond tense. I wanted to touch him, but I had no idea how he'd react. I almost wanted him to yell. That would be easier to deal with than this icy silence. If he'd broken something or hit the wall…_anything_…the ferocity of his response would have given me something to hang on to. But his chilly reaction had been emotionless. His words had been said without any inflection at all.

Ignoring the fluttering of nerves in my belly, I begged, "Say something."

Killua straightened, finally breaking out of his trance. He turned to me, and the flash of his smile stopped my heart for a minute. "It's getting late. You need sleep, beastie. We'll deal with this tomorrow."

_ What…the hell? That's it? No tantrums, no angry meltdowns, no ear-splitting yelling? No ace up his sleeve? Nothing?_

I scrambled off my stool when he slid off his and proceeded to walk toward his bedroom, without a hitch in his stride. "Kil—"

"It's been a long day," he interrupted smoothly. "Let's just sleep on it, okay?"

Blinking in surprise, I said, "Okay."

Killua gave the boys behind me a cursory nod and brushed the backs of his fingers across my cheek. Then he was gone, slipping into the hallway and quietly shutting the door of his bedroom.

I stood there, shocked to the bone.

"That's…" Gon began, struggling with words himself. "I'm not sure if that's good or bad."

A speechless Gon spoke volumes.

"How lame. So undramatic…" Jei commented. He shrugged. "So this was fun!" He stepped out of the kitchen area in a slight hurry, grabbing his jacket and walking to the foyer. "We'll talk. Call me… maybe. Or never. 'Night."

The door of the suite slammed shut.

Gon and I shared a look, and I knew that just like me, he could also hear the implied _dun dun dunnnn_ in his head when took a chug of his beer and finally spoke his mind:

"I've been friends with Killua for five years. I've seen him in a fight, I've seen him venting, annoyed, mad, and briefly unhappy. But I've never, ever, seen him this angry."

* * *

_Yuki Kudo was a neophyte to the world of men. Correction, Yuki Kudo was a neophyte in the Hunter World of men, but desperate to get her toes wet.  
_

_Bold curved brows.  
_

_Plenty of attitude. _

_No-nonsense way._

_Tenacious, unyielding spirit. _

_Heeled biker boots, tight denim shorts and form-fitting shirts were her go-to pieces for day and night. __Her style was all about the confidence that she greatly lacked from the inside.__Yuki Kudo was born with a staggering, commanding manner. She had spent the last five years in warrior mode. __And she was famous for her mouth—her whip-sharp retorts being the first reason. She was stormy, stubborn… and impatient. _

_Yuki Kudo was not a girly-girl who was afraid to get dirty. She was ruthless, power-hungry, uncompromising, and efficient as a warrior, but her true strength lay in her conviction. She entered battles without any trace of doubt in her mind: no ethical pause, no fear of death. _

_Five years in solitude taught her the value of hard work, two years fighting criminals taught her to be quick in her movements and judgment, three years catching criminals taught that being a 'soft-touch' helped no one… and one month living with a criminal taught her that things weren't always as black and white as they seem. _

_At least now, Yuki Kudo knew she came with a big baggage. She knew she was a high-maintenance menace. And she knew that she was a heavy handful. The only problem was that Killua had no idea what type of a handful she was. What crazy, crazy type of a handful she was._

_And time could only tell. Only time would tell everything._

* * *

The next day, I went for a run at six a.m. I wished just running fast could get me away from whatever was troubling me. Once I hit my stride and went full-out, I let my mind run, too.

My thoughts were still stuck on the way Killua reacted last night. Was it possible that he was bottling up his anger? How was he going to react _now_? How should _I_ react? That man wanted revenge, just like I did, once upon a time. I knew how he felt, the simmering hate that ate slowly at every inch of your being, begging to be unleashed with violence and blood.

But that man was reaching out to me. No matter what, using me as Killua's weakness was a dirty move. If he thought of hurting Killua by hurting me, then he was my enemy, too. This was not how retaliation worked. And I couldn't blame Killua for whatever the action he decided to take. God knows if the roles were reversed, I wouldn't react well if my friends had to suffer for my past mistakes.

I ran until my thighs and calves burned, until sweat ran down my body in steady streams and my lungs ached with the effort of breathing. My stride slowed to a jog as I headed back to my apartment. When I got out of the elevator and saw Killua in the hallway, I had a brief moment of panic.

I was a sweaty mess, dressed in a sports bra and old men's tennis shorts. My ponytail was messy and my hair stuck unattractively to my forehead. I looked terrible, and there was this new panic of not wanting Killua to see me like this, something I'd never really felt before. Especially that I now knew the succubus type of girls he was with before.

_Oh, stop being such a girl_.

"Hi," I said, trying not to sound as ill as I felt.

"Morning, beastie." Killua leaned against the wall with his legs crossed at the ankle and his arms crossed over his chest. He was dressed up in his signature black attire. A ball cap was pulled low over his brows, but the shadow cast by its brim did nothing to diminish the arresting emerald of his eyes.

I ripped out my earphones and wiped the sweat off my face. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you. And to know more about what happened between you and Cash."

I frowned, confused. "Cash?"

"The Conjurer."

"Oh, that Cash…" _Some name he has_. "Okay. I already told you everything. It was just the 'I'll hit all your buttons by propositioning your girlfriend' classic move. Please don't let him get to you. He just wants you to do something rash and dig yourself into a hole."

He nodded absently, leaving me anxious and clueless about his thoughts. "What about you? Are you okay?"

The abrupt change in topic knocked me askew. "I'm better now." _Because you're near_.

"You're not scared of anything, are you?"

_Only that you might be bottling up your anger and __ risking an emotional explosion_. "No. I'm not."

He stepped closer, his gaze locked with mine as he told me, "You blinked."

My heartbeat quickened, my body instantly responding to the proximity of his. "Yeah… well. If I let myself worry, then I wouldn't be able to do anything but worry. And I wouldn't focus on anything else. So…."

Cupping my chin, he tilted my head up. "No one can touch you. No one can get to you. They'd have to get through me first. You know that, right?"

"I know that." And it made me want to kiss him so badly, for some reason, in the middle of this unromantically small hallway, but I wasn't very comfortable doing that while I was dripping in sweat. So we stood there in front of my apartment door, staring at each other, and there was all this…expectation in the air. Like, what should we do now? Should we just say it and leave? Shake hands?

We just looked at each other like clueless idiots for way too long, until he softly asked, "Aren't you gonna invite me in?"

I'd continued staring for a moment, trying to find the strength to tell him _no_, _I can't_, but new, insecure, not-wanting-to-let-him-go Yuki took over my mouth. "Oh? Uhh, sure. Come on in."

I was tense and somber as I pushed the copper key into the lock, and my disquiet only worsened when I ushered him inside.

Then he was in my apartment.

Killua pulled off his cap and laid it on the kitchen island. He said nothing, but courageously looked around the house. What was he going to say anyway? A bland 'Nice home'? Or, 'It's been a while since I've seen this living room'? Or even worse, 'The place hasn't changed since the last time I've been here with blood on my hands. Ha ha.'? Instead he shoved his hands in his pockets and tried not to look too contrite, tried to play it cool. But I could tell from the way his Adam apple worked in a nervous swallow that this was a big deal to him as it was to me, if not bigger.

I swigged from my water bottle to soothe the fat-assed lump in my throat. "Wanna drink something?"

Jeez. Where did that clichéd line come from?

"No, uhh," he said, clearing his throat. "No need."

"You can wait in my room as I finish my shower."

I mentally punched myself in the guts for _that_ line.

He nodded, and I tugged him deeper into the apartment. My tension was palpable as I studied his profile, my anxiety reaching infinity proportions as I waited for his reaction. His mood majorly lifted once we stepped inside my old room, and he carefully stepped further inside while I paused by the door like an anxious vulture.

Dear God. He was in _my_ bedroom. Like, _in_ my bedroom. Not only that, he was wandering around, looking at my old stuff. Touching it. All tall and contemplative, long fingers grazing across things in ways that made my whole body itch. Either that or I'd broken out in hives.

It was possible.

It tended to happen in extremely stressful situations, and having Killua inside my formerly Zaoldyeck-free sanctuary would certainly qualify as stressful.

This was the place where I'd purged my feelings for him. Where Marcus and I talked about all the crap he'd put me through, where I thought angsty-emo vitriol in my bathroom right before I decided to confront him in the station, and where I'd raged and vowed to never let him hurt me again.

And now he was here. In front of me. Smiling. Not quite as freaking out about the déjà vu's as I was. He was _smiling_.

Crap. How did this happen? Why did I let it?

My neck itched.

_Yep. Definitely hives._

I scratched absently as I watched him examine my bedtime stories collection. He smiled as his fingers settled on a particular plushie that sat over the shelf, and I couldn't help but smile, too.

"That's Mr.…"

"Mr. Tao, I remember," he finished for me. His grin flashed. "Of course I remember."

He looked over at me, and his simple honesty made the distance between us seem way too great.

His eyes flickered to my throat, and then he was walking over, frowning with concern.

"Dammit, Yuki, your neck…" He stopped in front of me and gently touched my itchy skin. "You have hives?" Frowning more, he pressed his cool fingers into the burn, simultaneously soothing it and making it worse.

"I'm fine," I said, embarrassed. "You know I get hives sometimes."

"Yeah," he said, tilting my head back to get a better look, and then grazing my throat lightly with his fingertips. "I noticed that I give you hives when I'm being an asshole, but I thought I was doing well right now."

"You are," I assured him, finding it increasingly hard to breathe.

"Not according to your nervous system."

"My skin is stupid."

"No. It's beautiful."

He looked down at me and placed one hand on my throat and the other at the top of my sweat-damp chest, his skin soft, his eyes warm. "Does this help?"

It did help, and not just the rash. It helped everything when he put his hands on me. It helped me forget who he was, who I was, and every bad thing we both did. It made our time of hurt disappear.

He just stood there, slowly stroking my skin, trying to soothe me, not pushing, but nudging. Urging me to remember that no matter where we were and how much we complicated each other's lives, it only mattered how good we could be together. How good he could be to me.

_For_ me.

I did what I wanted to do since I saw him in the hallway: I walked straight into his arms, sliding my arms around his lean waist and pressing my forehead into his chest. I loved that my face rested perfectly between his pecs and loved the reassuring, familiar warmth of him under the cotton of his shirt. The clean scent of his body and the richly masculine undertone that hung in the air, enveloping me in its sweetness.

"Umm," he purred, pulling me closer. "Tell me how to earn one of these sexy sweaty hugs every day."

I smiled against his shirt. "Just be you."

His arms tightened. "I can leave if you want me to."

"No, I don't want that."

"Okay. Then I'll stay." He nuzzled my temple, and I let him hug my bad mood away. "What's that?"

Pulling away, I followed his line of sight to where it moved over a framed photograph over my dresser. The picture was of twelve-year-old me and an old friend of mine. We were on top of a mountain's cliff, and my friend was posing to the camera with a wide smile and his arm around my shoulders. "Ah, he was my friend back when I was on the road. We trained together, not by the same master, but around the same time. He's a gourmet hunter now."

"Cool," Killua said, trying to act nonchalant and failing miserably.

"What are we going to do about that Cash dude?" I said, deciding to get lost in conversation rather than memories. "He's probably lurking around. And he's going for blood."

"He'll have to get in line. When do you have to be at work?"

"At 10 sharp," I answered, although his careless dismissal of the subject concerned me. "I don't like that you're too calm about this."

"He won't bother us again." Killua casually pulled out a book from the shelf and leafed through it. His eyes were cool, his expression one of confidence—too confident for my liking. "I took care of it before I came here."

_Oh shit_. I tensed, my pulse leaping. Either I was too paranoiac or that answer actually did sound way too ominous. "Killua… What did you do?"

"Relax. I didn't kill him," he said without inflection. "We just had a little man-to-man talk. We settled privately and were done with it."

A jolt of profound relief ran through me, but I didn't relax. I had no idea what 'a man-to-man talk' meant in Killua's roundabout brain. It was hard to believe that Killua and that creepy-smiling, friends-stalking, revenge-hungry man agreed to something and shook on it without any physical damage.

"You don't look so convinced." He set the book back to its place with a sigh. "I told you that I've changed my style. New-me has a lot of less creepy ways of dealing with troubles. For example…" He leveled me with a serious gaze. "Old_-_me would have been insanely jealous and pissed-off if he found out that you keep a damned photo of you and another guy in your bedroom. He would have taken one look at it and either punched it broken, or said something incredibly inflammatory and stormed out, and the next time you saw him, he probably would have laid a great guilt-trip on you of epic proportions."

"Ohhh. I see." I tapped my chin in contemplation. "So, are you telling me that the new-you _isn't_ jealous?"

He gave me his lopsided smile. "Nop. I'm jealous as hell, but please note I'm still here. Also, I'm not yelling. I call that progress."

I laughed. "I think you're right. Still, I want to know how you settled matters with Cash."

He moved to my bedside table, studying its contents. "I have more things to take care of 'till ten. Hit the shower and I'll tell you everything while I drive you to work."

"_Drive_ me?" I didn't know why the thought thrilled me so much, but it did.

"Yes, I ordered us a car from the hotel. Unless you don't wanna go on a ride with me…?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

I snorted indelicately. "You mean a _death_ ride? No, thanks. I'd rather get to work without any broken bones."

"Oh, come on." He bent down, and, to my absolute horror, attempted to open my bedside drawer. Where I hid The Letter.

The Zaoldyeck Letter.

The Zaoldyeck _possibly-blackmail_ Letter.

I jumped from my spot in one superhuman surge, throwing myself in his way and slamming the drawer shut before he could fully open it. "No! Not that drawer."

Killua eyed me suspiciously. "Why? What's in there? Human body parts?"

_Uhh…much worse_. "In a way," I answered cryptically.

"Oh." He leaned forward and lowered his voice, smirking. "Is it porn? Because I know that's something I'd really enjoy looking at with you."

"No, ugh." I awkwardly shifted to stand with my butt to the drawer, blocking his way.

_Jeez…say something…he's staring…say anything…anything that could drive him far, far away from here and make him never come back_.

"It's _feminine_ stuff."

_Bingo_. Killua made a rather horrified slash disgusted face. I rolled my eyes; he was such a guy about girls stuff.

I nodded. "Right. Trust me, you don't wanna see that. Why don't you wait for me in the lobby downstairs?"

"Okay. Don't take too long in the shower." He started to head out, and just as I was savoring an intense surge of relief, he added, "Get ready. We are going on a ride together."

Perhaps it was just me, but that sounded more like a threat than a statement.

* * *

Walking to the Grandview Hotel, I was greeted with the smells and sounds of vibrant York Shin. The last week of October came with a rush of chills off of the city's Red Lake as the leaves turned an odd shade of burgundy, seemingly overnight. The bustle and the flow of the cars were too frenetic for eight a.m.

The doorman tapped his hat for us by way of greeting and handed Killua a set of keys. A black Impala was waiting at the curb. A valet walked up to open the door of the car for me and shut the door while Killua walked around to hop into the driver's seat. He slid behind the wheel and adjusted the seat to accommodate his long legs. He handled the powerful car the way he handled everything—with expert control, practiced confidence, and just the right amount of aggression.

"I think I'm gonna need chains instead of seatbelts," I grumbled as I fastened my seatbelt. I knew just how much Killua's legs itched for speed.

"Chains? Wow, beastie. Didn't know you had a kinky streak hidden beneath that fiery exterior." I turned my head to give him my best blank look, and he smiled wickedly. "Don't get me wrong, I heartily approve."

He waved the car easily over the curves and straightaways of crazy York Shin. There was almost no traffic, which made me realize why he wanted to drive so early in the morning. He wanted to fly on the road.

_Boys and their toys_.

I twisted in my seat to face him. "You look so happy when you drive. Like a little boy in a man's body."

Killua smiled. "I enjoy transportation vehicles. Cars, skateboards, private jets. Back in the olden days, I wasn't allowed to have any hobbies, since people always needed killing according to Big Brother, so driving became my excuse for recreation." He shrugged. "My family probably wanted me to become quite the equestrian when I was ten, but once I discovered the joys of the gas pedal, I used every opportunity I had to press it to the floor."

"You drove a _private jet_ when you were _ten_? And how did you learn how to drive, exactly?"

"I'm self taught," he announced proudly.

"Clearly."

He punished me by raising the speed of the car to a steady one hundred, swerving through slower cars on the highway.

"Now listen to this, and pay close attention…" Leaning back on the leather seat, he looked way too smug and pleased with himself. "Whenever I could afford the time to drive, I did. Like any boy, I enjoy a good ride, beastie. The faster the better. The harder, the more worthwhile. And I don't have much regard for the marks on the road, because I rarely stay within the lines…" His voice was dripping with innuendo.

I rolled my eyes._ Ugh, here comes the douchey, dirty bad-boy again_.

"Are we still talking about cars?" I asked archly.

"Of course." He smirked with his eyes still on the road.

Since driving seemed to be his pastime, he made every moment count, particularly by weaving through other vehicles at the fastest possible rate. He swerved dramatically, laughing at the same time. It was all a grand obstacle course to him, even if poor me failed to appreciate the exhilaration of the game.

I had covered my eyes, but I had stopped cursing. I was having too much difficulty breathing to devote much energy to expressing my terror, and Killua seemed more than happy about that.

My face had dropped to my hands. Through the gaps between my fingers, I muttered, "You're going to kill me."

"I get that a lot." He smiled proudly. Then he saw me roll my eyes and laughed a little. "Oh, beastie. A strong ride doesn't protest my _wild_ maneuvering."

I finally worked up the courage to glare at him. "Again, are we still talking about cars?"

"Of course." He was so full of it.

My brow lifted in challenge. "And you think you have your way around a 'car'? That you can always know how to handle it, no matter what? Everyone thinks you're a good 'driver'?"

He shot me a rather sly glance. "I've got references."

"And how 'good' exactly did they think you are?"

Killua smirked.

Damn it. Damn _me_ for asking that. I could almost hear the 'challenge accepted' ringing through his head.

He'd smirked the Devil Smirk, as I called it, where something either profoundly incredible or purely evil was about to happen.

Without warning, he sped off down the street with one hand on the wheel, jerking me back on my seat and sending us flying forward. He revved the engine and shifted it smoothly into third gear. He upshifted again into fourth, accelerating the car further, ignoring the white-knuckled grip I had on his forearm. His eyes didn't wander from the road, his entire body singularly focused on driving, his face contorted with determination. He shifted into fifth gear with a devilish smile. The engine roared loudly, matching the pounding pace of my heart.

Finally, he spun the wheel wildly and the car skidded around a sharp corner. After pulling a little on the handbrake, we lurched to a stop beside the guardrail.

I stared at him as if he was out of his mind, but the look on my face said it all. I was panting, whooshes of breath unheard over the blood rushing through my ears. My pulse was flying, my cheeks were flaming, my adrenaline was soaring and my eyes were aloft with a shiny excitement.

"Yeah," Killua said, answering my question. "Just like that."

I legitimately shut up, shaking my head and smiling.

_Asshole_.

"Ah, by the way…" He glanced at his phone and typed out a quick text. "We're here."

"Wait, is this—" I looked through the tinted car windows and frowned at the old-fashioned building beside us. "The railway station? This is where the secret location of the Hunter Committee in York Shin takes place in the basement. Why are we here, exactly?"

To answer my question, a svelte auburn-haired girl emerged out of the building and headed towards us. I studied her, grudgingly admitting she was really pretty. Tall and willowy, with big green eyes and lush painted-red lips, she was the type of girls that other girls hated to stand next to—I was no exception. Her nails were colored in hot pink, her arms were sleeved in tribal tattoos, as obvious as her street smarts and seductive skills. She was provocatively stunning… and sexy.

And I was more than certain she was one of Killua's 'references' at some point in the past.

Lovely.

"Joy to the world," Killua muttered sarcastically, as he saw her walking. His voice was so full of disdain, I immediately knew this was the same girl who gave him false information and sent him to Los Selegna on a wild-goose chase. His glare told me that he was still holding a grudge, which made me pity her—just for a second. She had dug herself a nice, little grave.

After a minute or two, he opened his window and draped his arm out over the side at the same moment the girl approached the driver's side. "Christ on a cracker," she said by means of exclamation. She bent at the waist to peer inside the car, meeting my gaze for a second before staring hard into Killua's face. Her lips curled in a cunning smile. "Gosh. If it's not Killua Zaoldyeck himself descending from his ivory tower to grace us with his visit. Sorry for not rolling out the red carpet."

"Cut the hyperbolic crap," Killua replied. "I'm here to collect what you owe me. Where is it?"

"What are you talking about? I already gave you all the possible ways to contact him," she retorted.

"Your little friend didn't show up. Find another way to bring him to me or I'll find a thousand ways to hide a body around here."

"Don't take that tone with me." She frowned. "This is all your fault."

Killua gasped, clapping his hand dramatically over his heart. "I'm sorry, did my back hurt your knife?"

I stifled a laugh.

"I did not betray you!" the girl exclaimed. "Rick was going to show up and hand over all the information you needed if you didn't call to cancel the meeting!"

Killua paused, confused. "I didn't cancel the damned meeting."

"That's what he told me."

"He lied. Why would I travel three thousands miles for a meeting that I would cancel?"

The girl rolled her eyes irritably. "And why would he lie after he extended his stay in Los Selegna for a whole week _just_ to meet up with you? Jesus, you came up here with your half-assed accusations to blame me for your screw-ups—"

Killua waved his hand disinterestedly, cutting her off. "Whatever. Give me another way to contact him again and we'll be done for."

"You can call him from my phone, if you don't believe me." The girl reached into the breast pocket of her tee to pull out her smartphone, throwing it at Killua who caught it deftly and wasted no time in scrolling through the contacts list.

He managed a glance for me. "I'll be right back, beastie," he said, before he jumped out of the car to take the call, leaving me and the girl with a spell of horrible silence between us.

She leaned her elbow on the window sill and watched Killua go with an exaggerated sigh of defeat. "Thank God he's pretty."

"Excuse me?"

She looked at me. "If he were that much of an asshole without a nice ass to make up for it, that would have sucked pretty badly."

I scoffed, unable to help it. "I hear ya."

"Check the way he's watching us every three seconds." She jerked her chin to where Killua stood few feet away from the car. "He probably thinks I'm about to ambush you for a quick clichéd girly fight because you're his new girl."

The knowing tone in her voice made me want to correct her, even if she wasn't wrong.

"I don't—"

"Shh!" she said, eyes widening. "Don't ruin it and let's give him a good show. This is supposed to be the part where there's more awkward silence during which it becomes clear that I'm still _desperately_"—she lolled her head around to emphasize the word—"trying to get Killua to like me."

"Ohhh!" I said. "Alright." We stood in deliberate silence, playing along.

After a few seconds, she said, "That should do it."

"Okay, what next?"

"I tell you that you'll never be woman enough for him."

"Ouch. Okay, lay it on me."

Raising her pitch—but not her voice—several notches, she said hysterically, "You'll never be woman enough for him!"

"Then I say," I got my best bitch bark. "You gotta face the truth, you washed up old hag. He doesn't want you. Why would he when he has me?"

"Oh, good one!" she admired, nodding.

"Then I throw my water in your face—"

"Can we just mime that? This is a white shirt," she requested, and I nodded.

"Then you slap me—please mime _that_."

She laughed. "Some hair-pulling—"

"Two big muscular men tearing us apart—"

"And a scene." The girl grinned, thrusting her well-manicured hand through the open window for me. "I'm CeeCee."

I shook her hand, because I wasn't a mean bitch—unless I was given a good reason to be. "Yuki."

"Noway! Oh, my God!" Her voice carried into the car the minute she yanked the door open and slid into the driver seat to gawk a little closer at me. She gave me her best impression of a shocked, scandalized goldfish. "Yuki as in _Yuki Kudo_, the blacklist hunter?"

"Yes?" I answered, suddenly wary. There was an avid gleam in her eyes that got my back to stiffen.

"You are!" She caught both of my hands, startling me with the out-of-nowhere friendliness. "I'm such a fan of your work! I've heard so much about you in the Committee, but you look so much different from how I pictured you in my head. Younger. Prettier. Less Medusa-like. And I love your hair!"

"Thanks. I guess." I frowned in confusion. "How do you know me?"

She shoved at my shoulder with a laugh, as if we were old buddies. "Don't play modest. Almost everyone in the Committee knows you. I know that you're one of the breakout blacklist pro hunters of your time, and I know that the tenacity and the enterprise you showed in the past two years earned you a high rank among the other breakout hunters. Lippo-sama mentioned your name more than once."

That made me smile. Good ol' Lippo. I hadn't seen the man in nearly six months. My mind drifted back in the days to where I used to take orders from him instead of Kurapika.

Good times.

CeeCee bobbed her head in my line of sight. "Can I ask you something?" Her tone was of genuine interest, and my inner warrior eased a bit now that her gaze was no longer lingering for longer than the necessary to admire Killua's ass.

"Go ahead."

CeeCee's left eyebrow was quirked high on her smooth forehead. The stage was set, adding a dramatic rhythm to what she was going to whisper next:

"Is it true that you were"—_Chugga chugga chug chug choo choo! Choo choo!_—"or is just a rumor?"

From the distance, the blare of a train's horn blew and drowned out the majority of her words, but I heard them loud and clear.

"No, it's not a rumor," I answered her question quietly, now even more wary, if possible. "How do you know such a thing about me?"

She waved a dismissive hand in the air. "It's a small committee. People gossip." When her eyes met mine again, they were filled with such curiosity. "Does Killua know this about you?"

I raised my eyebrows at her. "Why would he be interested in this?" I asked, beyond incredulous.

CeeCee looked like she was bobbing for apples. "Are you kidding? This particular thing about you is what interests him the most!"

"Nop. I don't think it'll matter to him at all," I insisted. What was her problem?

That earned me an arched brow from CeeCee and a closer examination, which I returned with equal coolness. But before she could say more, Killua, who had obviously finished his phone call, patted the metal of the car's door and motioned for her to get off his seat. She did, but only after she shot me another skeptical look, leaving me wondering what the hell just happened.

She and Killua exchanged a few words afterward, mostly about Rick, CeeCee's friend who would provide Killua with the information about Gon's father. After a couple of minutes, CeeCee and I waved goodbyes as Killua revved the engine and pulled the car into motion.

"What was that?" he asked as we crawled along through the morning traffic.

I lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. "Just your average catfight."

"Over what?" He waggled his eyebrows.

"Ha. Like I'm going to stroke your ego more."

"You can stroke any part of me you want, Yuki," he joked. I gave him a scathing look. "What? I meant my_ heart_."

"Sure."

"Can't help it if you're a pervert."

I ignored him, because I had to ask, "What's the deal with CeeCee's friend?"

Killua sighed. "It's a whole big misunderstanding. Apparently, she didn't give me any false information. Rick was expecting me in Los Selegna, but someone pretended to be me and called to cancel our meeting. That person obviously didn't want Rick to give me the information I wanted."

"This is weird. Who could have done that?"

"Beats me."

Someone lied to Rick so that Killua wouldn't get any bit of information about Gon's father. Could it be Cash the Conjurer? Was it possible that he did so that it'd be easier to lure Killua into his poison trap? But why did he have go through all this trouble? Because to be able to lie like that, that person must have known all about Killua's next moves. They must have known that Killua would go to look for information in Los Selegna.

For how long had they been stalking him?

I grimaced. Nothing made sense anymore. I tried to find a sensible reason to why anyone wouldn't want Killua to find Gon's father, but I drew a blank.

I risked a glance at Killua. I wondered if, like me, he was stirring these questions over and over in his head. But his face gave nothing away, his demeanor calm but markedly aloof.

"Are we going to talk about how you dealt with Cash?"

"In a minute." Killua flung the car into gear and stomped on the gas pedal. The acceleration pressed me into the seat as if we were taking off in an airplane. _Ah, not again_. I whined—no, I _whinnied_, like a horse. I was rather tempted to slap him. It was not until the car skidded to a halt once more that I dared open my eyes. When I did, I realized that Killua had parked in front of a bakery.

I was getting used to Killua's unannounced speed, but I hadn't stopped reacting. In lieu of staggering around in my seat and feeling generally nauseous, I settled for cursing, then punching his arm, then shouting, "You need to stop doing that!" and, "You think you're being funny right now, don't you?" and lastly, 'If you're not going to give me answers, then send me to work!"

"Thank god the car windows are tinted," Killua muttered with an eye roll. "You're embarrassingly unruly."

I had been saving up a particular gesture—for weeks, maybe—and since I was invisible to everyone outside the car except for the guy I intended as the recipient, I boldly displayed it for him. But when I showed off the straightness of my middle finger, Killua only smirked, hooked his pinky around it with a giggle, and it was one of the cutest things I had heard in a long while.

"I hate you sometimes," I declared.

"Eh. People thought I represented Death in the past, so everyone hated me." He paused to scratch his chin thoughtfully. "Except maybe the emos. But they only pretended to like death, so they don't really count."

"Drop me off at the Nostrads, Killua."

"With an empty stomach? I gotta feed you breakfast first." Before I could decide whether or not I had actually heard genuine affection in his voice, he slid his hand high across my thigh. I gasped and he slowly retracted his hand to unbuckle my seatbelt. "Ah, _there_'s the buckle. Oops," he said, taking no care to mask his naughtiness.

He narrowly dodged a slap to the face by disappearing from the driver's seat and seemingly materializing himself outside the passenger door.

"You and your stupid party tricks," I hissed as he opened my door. "When are we going to talk?" I asked, using an indignant monotone.

"The day is still young!" He threaded his fingers through mine and led me inside the bakery, which smelled phenomenal and had a long line. "I only have one more stop, but let's eat first."

* * *

Ten minutes later, I slumped down in my seat with my legs sprawled on the dashboard of the Impala we ended up parking in a deserted road. I gave up on asking Killua what we were doing here and instead savored the delicious Montreal-style bagel he'd bought me. I was starting to think buying me breakfast was one of his oblique ways to distract me from probing for more questions. It was working as long as I had food in my hands. I was such a girl.

"Do you have your hunter's license?" Killua randomly asked. "Or have you lost it?"

"Of course I have it." I frowned. "Why?"

He stared out his window and drummed his fingers over the steering wheel. "You'll need it. For travel."

Excitement tingled through me. "I'm traveling somewhere?"

"Yes. With me." His eyes held a wicked gleam when he looked at me. "I'm shipping you off by the end of this month."

"Shipping me off? To where?"

"Wherever you want." He leaned toward me with his arm around the back of my seat. His voice took on a warm rasp that made my toes curl. "I'd say someplace with a beach—a private beach. No phones, no internet, no interruptions. Just us. Where I could have you all to myself." He lips quirked on one side. "Preferably with a lot more laziness and far less clothes."

That was almost enough to make me smile. "Are you trying to distract me with innuendo? Again? Because it won't work. I still want to talk about some serious stuff."

"Now? While I'm romancing you?" He looked almost pouty. "There are many great things I can do with my mouth. Do you really want to waste them on talking?"

"Wow," I said, stunned. "_Flirting For Dummies_ probably has better lines that you do. Has that line ever worked on a girl before?"

"I don't need to feed anyone any lines. Besides, the quality of the opening act isn't important as long as the band you bought the tickets to see is body-rockin' fantastic." He winked.

I fought another smile. He was so witty it made him much more attractive, dammit. "Is that the best you can come up with?"

"Nope." His eyes glittered mischievously. "There's: 'I think your outfit would look good on my bedroom's floor.'"

"Oh, my god!" I laughed. "So cheesy."

"Made you laugh though, didn't it?" He smirked. "I warned you about me and romance. We don't click."

Suddenly, a black Bentley SUV joined us on the lonely road. It came up fast and furious in the next lane and overtook us.

Along with four other black Bentley SUVs.

Killua's gaze noticeably cooled with fury. He never allowed anyone to overtake him on the road. Ever.

Growling softy, he pressed down on the clutch, shifting wildly into the third gear and zooming off. It eventually clicked into my brain that these were the guys Killua was expecting.

And now we were back on the road, racing them.

We zoomed forward at an impossible speed, wheels pealing at the same pitch as the ringing in my ears. We raced along the four Bentleys until we surpassed them in no time. Then just as suddenly as he took off, Killua jerked off the road and slammed on the brakes, cutting the steering wheel to the left and using the centripetal force to complete a dizzying, exhilarating 180-turn that brought the car to a standstill on the road and in the way of the fifth Bentley.

All cars were forced to a screeching halt on top of a bridge.

"Stay here," he ordered briskly, then he was out of the car. The warm, wickedly playful guy who'd been teasing me all day had turned into a cold-eyed, all-business angry-ball in front of me. He was Killua Zaoldyeck now. No muss, no fuss.

I watched him move over to one of the luxurious cars, standing by the driver's side. Bending over double, he rested one hand on the roof of the car and motioned with two fingers for the driver to slide the window down.

My heart started pounding when an army of men dressed in black emerged out of the other four Bentleys. I thought they were preparing to fight. I even almost opened my door and got out. But no, they weren't going to fight smack in the middle of the morning.

They did nothing, just stood there like statues, their hard eyes focused on Killua, but he paid them no mind. I couldn't see who was inside the car Killua was standing next to, but I saw the driver stick a sealed manila envelope out of the window. Killua took it, and quickly checked its contents. After a few seconds of examining the papers inside, he closed the envelope and patted the roof of the car.

All men went immediately back inside, and the five Bentleys pulled out of their spots all at the same time, all soaring away one after another.

The deal was over.

I realized that the dealer brought all these men along because he probably knew he'd be facing a Zaoldyeck. And nobody in their right mind faced a Zaoldyeck without some sort of armor.

My head was racing with questions when Killua came back beside me, almost like the last five minutes never happened. He popped the bottom floor board in the passenger's seat and threw the envelope inside as if it was a sacred entity.

"What was that? Who are these people?" I asked.

"Cash's men," Killua said, shocking me to the spot. But it was what he added next that made my jaw drop. "They are the Italian mob."

"WHAT?" I yelled, beyond panicked. The blood drained from my face. "Since when you've been associating with the mafia?"

"Not for so long. And not with the mafia, only Cash." His brows furrowed at my reaction. "Calm down."

"How can you say that?" Damn it, I could feel myself getting so worked up. "Why do you have connections with these people? Do you have other underworld ties?"

"Yuki." He took my shaking hand in his. "I'll tell you everything if you calm down."

"No! You've been saying that for two hours and you didn't tell me shit!" I was so mad, I was vibrating all over. My voice rose and grew sharp as panic spread through me. "Do you know how scary the connections these people have? The influence they have? Do you know how scary _they_ are? I know because I work with them. They have no mercy. If you're screwing with them, Killua, I swear to god—"

"I know my line, Yuki," he said, trying to keep his voice calm through my freak-out. "And of course I have underworld ties. Whether I like it or not, I'll always have these connections. Most of the people who hired me in the past were the mobsters, and god knows I killed so many of them, too. And they're resourceful. Eventually, they'll know how to get me."

"What about Cash? What's his story?" I blabbered away. "When you told me that you were signing hotel papers that night you disappeared after our date, you were in fact dealing with his threats, weren't you? Why's he stalking you? What did Jei mean when he said that you owe the man? What did you do something to piss him off besides kill his closed one?"

Killua sighed; then hopped out of the car and rushed around to my side. My door jerked open, and he was kneeling down to look up at me. His gaze was steady, all human, and infinitely honest. "I'm going to tell you how this all started, what he did, and what I did, but first… I want you to promise you won't break up with me."

* * *

**A/N: **And then there's _that_.

Reviews are the cherry on my sundae (and my Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday and so on, so forth.) So review, review, review, a thousand times review. Tell me what you enjoyed about this chapter. And you can always catch me on tumblr, by the way, I'm always lurking there.

Oh and let me know when you want the next update. Or give me anti-depressant tips, if you have any.

Until next time.


	41. The Heir: Part II, The Queen

**A/N:** Mafia and mystery based chapter, more plot, little action, and big load of crazy. Some hints and hunches here and there for my little detective readers. We've reached the last stage where the main plot starts to finally unfold. Now without further ado…

* * *

_"I'm going to tell you how this all started, what he did, and what I did, but first… I want you to promise you won't break up with me."_

**_42. The Heir: Part II  
The Queen  
_**

* * *

Killua inhaled slowly, then began:

"I screwed up with Cash."

I just stared at him for a few seconds, my mind spinning. "I know that," I said calmly. "You killed someone close to him years ago."

"No. I screwed up with Cash very recently."

My blank look told him he just confused me, totally boggled my mind.

"It all started three months ago. Gon and I had recently arrived in York Shin upon hearing that his father might be doing some business in the Hunter Committee here. Cash came to me a couple weeks later. He showed me his nen ability, then threatened to hurt everyone I cared about if I didn't do what he wanted."

"He wanted you to kill someone for him?" I tried to guess, already dreading his answer.

"No. I wish." Killua sighed. "The thing you don't know about Cash is that he runs one of the top three crime syndicates in York Shin. His empire is the second best. For years, he ruled his business with the help of his two partners, one of them was called Cirillo. Seven years ago, I was hired to kill Cirillo. The assassination had shaken the syndicate pretty badly, especially after the other partner was captured. Like any mobster, Cash followed the 'An attack on one is an attack on all' rule. And so, he wanted revenge."

Again, I took a shot. "So he wanted a fight match with you."

Killua snorted lightly. "I wish. He only had one simple request. He wanted me to rat on the hiring party; the person who asked me to assassinate Cirillo. That's everything he ever wanted from me. And much to my surprise, he was going to pay me for it. If I agreed to give him that one name, he promised to find me all the information the underworld knew about Gon's father."

My brows rose. "Wow. That's one helluva deal."

"He was determined to do anything to know who was behind his partner's assassination, and I was desperate for any scrap you could throw my way, so, I accepted. We agreed to meet after two months, enough time for him to gather all the information I needed."

"O-kay?" I was confused. "Everything sounds perfect so far."

"It does. There was only one tiny problem." He exhaled loudly. "My big brother and my father were the ones who planned all my missions. I was just a pawn in the game; moved around and carefully casted. The background check was the only information I was allowed to know about my target. So… I had absolutely no idea who the hiring party was."

"Damn it, Killua." I shot him a look, snatching my hands forcefully out of his and smacking the brim of his cap. "You had to play dirty! Why didn't you tell Cash the truth?"

He shrugged, and had the nerve to look nonchalant. "I wanted the information he was willing to give. I was going to do anything to get it."

"Like tricking a poisonous mob boss?"

"I can't change what happened in the past," he said coldly.

That shut me up. I could tell he was aware of his mistake. He could be as much of a dick as any guy, but he wasn't very proud of it.

"I had two months to find out who hired me," he continued, "and I was too much of a big-head to simply call and ask someone from my family about it, so I decided to find another way."

Then it struck me. "You used the hotel receptionist."

His eyes closed, and he looked a little annoyed. "I didn't use any of these girls, Yuki. If anything, _they_ were using _me_. But that's beside the point now." He was practically bristling with restless, anxious energy, and I realized this subject was out of his comfort zone. Which was laughable after all the bragging and the old-man dirty jokes he'd be cracking all morning.

"Darcie came on to me when I first checked in the Grandview. I brushed her off until I learned that Cash also had a permanent room in the hotel. But since he was one of the elite guests, it was more difficult to get closer to his room or find any information about him that I could use. I knew if I played my cards right, Darcie would dig up stuff for me, and the opening was there so I took it. It was just supposed to be that once, but she was insatiable. I let it go on for a couple of nights until she gave me a keycard to Cash's VIP room."

Irritation simmered my blood. Even knowing that the extent of their relationship had been about give-and-take and pure business for him, not attraction, didn't stop the claws of fury from digging into me. Insecurity was one of my virulent flaws. I hated how it always brought the worst in me.

I glared at him. "She handed you a freakin' keycard to a guest's room in an international hotel just to get _laid_? How pathetically desperate is she?"

That made one side of his mouth quirk up. "So hot when you're jealous, beastie. It's something about the way your cheeks flush."

"Shut up," I muttered and tried to push away past my jealousy. "So what happened then after you got into Cash's room? What did you find there?"

"Stuff about his business. I won't go into details, but it was enough information for me to use against him. When the two-months deadline hit and it was time for me to give him the name, I…chose an inadvisable way to fall off his radar."

"You attacked him!"

"Ha, I wish. Worse."

"You threatened to hurt his closed ones, too?"

"_I wish_."

I slapped his brim again. "Killua!"

Killua set his elbow on his knee and scrubbed at his face. "I gave him a wrong name. I told him that the hiring party was another crime syndicate, one of the three; a rival to his own."

My hand flew to my mouth. _Oh, my God_. Fuck, damn, shit. He was right. The route he'd taken was much, much worse. I stared at him, noting his defiant guilt. He would do it again, but he didn't approve of what he'd done. I could feel his anxiety as he stared at me, trying to gauge my reaction.

"Say something," he prompted quietly.

"Killua." I sighed and shook my head at him.

His eyes flashed. "What? Why did you say my name like that?"

"Because you're ridiculously whimsical for such a smart guy. Do you realize the consequences of what you've done?"

"Yes, I do, dammit. I'm not perfect. I take bad choices sometimes—I hadn't expected him to find out that I lied so soon. I wouldn't have done what I did, if I had."

"This is hardly a bad choice, Killua. You tricked him, lied to him, turned him against another mafia family," I summed up. "You practically ignited a war between the mob. What, you thought the war would have lasted forever and you'd be off the hook for a while? You're lucky he found out before he and that rival crime syndicate put the whole city into flames in one way or another. You do realize how brutal the mob wars could get in this city."

"I wanted to get him off my back."

Liar. I knew that wasn't the main reason. Killua would do everything to win, but he'd give up everything to make _Gon_ win. He held good intentions in his heart, even if you went about it the wrong way. "And that was why he followed you to Los Selegna and poisoned you."

"Yeah."

"And how did you settle it with him today?"

"After I found out the exact time he goes back to his hotel, I went to his room. I was so angry. I threatened him, told him that coming after you isn't the tack he wants to take with me. And if he didn't hand over all the information he owed me, packed up his business and got out of York Shin in the next 48 hours, then this would become personal and I'd be forced to handle him a lot more differently. And so he agreed."

Of course he'd agree. No mobster in his right mind wanted it to get _personal_ between him and a Zaoldyeck.

"He'd been living around us all this time," I realized. "Guess that's how he knew about me."

Killua met my gaze unflinchingly. "I didn't want you to know that I was meeting him at midnight after our date. You were happy, and you wanted to give me a second chance. I didn't want my past shoved in your face, and I didn't want you to think that trouble follows me everywhere."

"I already know that trouble _does_ follow you everywhere. That's the essence of being you. Didn't they warn you about it in Bad Boy 101?" I joked wryly.

"So that's it?" he countered, then he straightened abruptly, startling me with his alertness. "It's over? You don't want this anymore?"

I frowned, confused to why he was so tense. "I want _you_, you idiot."

There was a pause, then, "You're not pissed?"

I thought about it. "I—I don't know, Killua. As someone who works for the mafia myself, I have to be really pissed. But as your friend, I'm not. You're a Transmuter. Being deceitful and pulling party tricks isn't something you can help all the time." _Just like I couldn't help being argumentative and bull-headed_.

Killua stared for a long moment, trying to measure how serious I was, his expression indecipherable, before shrugging. Then he was smiling, wide and so un-Killua-like. "Oh. Great, then." Reaching up, he patted my head twice like I was a little puppy, and yanked up to his feet. "Glad we cleared that up. Let's get you to work now."

I blinked up at him in surprise as he hurriedly rounded the car to get back to the driver's seat. "Wait!" I got up, too. Running over, I grabbed his shoulder to stop him, then asked, "What was that?"

"What? I have to drive you to the Nostrads. It's almost 10 a.m—"

"Not that. You thought I was gonna break up with you? Over this?"

"Uh, yeah. About that." He swallowed. "It's just…" Even though he was talking to me, he was staring at the hood and one of his hands was insistently rubbing the back of his neck. Killua, Killua Zaoldyeck, _my_ Killua was nervous about telling me something. It was unbelievably endearing.

It was only when I traced along the skin at the V of his shirt that he looked at me. "Come on. Spill."

"Look, I'm new to this…stuff. I've never been a boyfriend before. I'm still getting to know all your triggers, and I don't know what's going to set you off and make you decide you're done with me. Your first response when I screw up is to run away. You do it every time and I hate feeling like any moment I'm going to do or say something wrong that might make me chase you away."

My brows shot up.

He was right. I was a runner, and he was always coming after me. Living as a bipolar for seven years now caused my emotional stability to be so fragile that I'd learned to protect it at all costs. When something threatened to get too intense, I ditched it. And Killua was all kinds of intense. Marcus gave me a subtle warning about that. If I was smart, I'd have turned around from the beginning and never looked back. It was a huge gamble I was taking to be around him…_with_ him…and I was too stubborn to lose.

What good did it do to tell him that I trusted him when I so often showed him otherwise by my actions? Was this why he hadn't opened up to people about his feelings? Why he had so many landmines? Because he was subconsciously protecting himself from the pain of abandonment?

That was why it was so important to him to be trusted and share the truth. It was also why Killua was such a walking contradiction—strong and over-confident on the outside; vulnerable and self-doubting on the inside. Why he was selective about his honesty, why he got so possessive at times, and why he often brushed off serious emotions with humor or light-hearted quips.

Because he was _afraid_. He thought everyone would eventually run away from him. That everyone would somehow end up leaving him, the way Alluka did. He believed people would soon realize he was not worth the trouble after all.

"I'm standing right here." I gestured at the ground, and he followed my gaze. "I'm not running anymore. Knowing what you went through has made me stronger. You've given me a reason to try harder to be someone better than I am. You're a good guy, tart. In your own quirky way."

His brows lifted at my nickname for him; then a softness came into his eyes. "I'm a mess, beastie."

"So? I'm a mess, too. That's what makes us special."

"I don't want you living the life I have. The only problem is that I can't stay away from you but I don't want you mixed up in all of this. But I have you and I'm just selfish enough not to care."

"Okay, then. Stay selfish." I canted my body toward him.

He looked down at me, more vulnerable than I'd seen him for a long time. "You deserve a normal boyfriend. With a normal life. Someone who does not have skeletons from the past and family issues."

"Psh," I scoffed, running my fingers down his chest, caressing the tense muscles. "I hate normal. Normal is overrated."

"I'm serious. There are guys out there that would be far better boyfriends for you than me. I'd bet your Sherlock would be a goddamn spectacular boyfriend. He'd be one of those mushy, gushy weirdos that'd bring you flowers in the middle of work, or write 'I miss you' in skywriting. Pretty sure I would never do any of that stuff."

"You brought me a ribboned rose for my birthday," I argued.

"Gon made me do that. He takes full credit."

"Hmm." It was hard to focus on the conversation while I was rubbing his very wiry, very strong, leanly muscled arms. "You took me to see the fireworks from my favorite spot in the city. I thought that was pretty sweet."

"The fireworks was Gon's idea, too," he said. He was so stubborn. "Never in a hundred years would I have thought of doing any of that for a girl."

"Ah-uh." I trailed my fingertips down over his abdomen, biting my lip when I felt the hard ridges of muscle tighten under my touch. "So are you telling me right now that I should go out with Marcus instead of you?"

A flicker of anger sparked in his eyes before he'd donned his trademark indifferent mask into place. "I'm just telling you that he'd be better for you than I would."

"Oh, okay. In that case, I'd better go to him." Turning on my heel, I pretended to leave. I got as far as the passenger door before he grabbed my arm, halting me midstep. I smiled when he jerked me back roughly and spun me in vigorous turn, pressing me back into the car with the weight of his body. His arms caged me on both sides, his palms slapped the hood.

"Not funny," he said, glaring. "Can Marcus do this?" He kissed me. Hard. He moved in so fast, but I saw it coming and didn't turn away. Instead I fell into the kiss with a sigh, swept away by the lush passion of it. His hands on my ribs tightened, forcing me to arch my back into him. Parting his lips, he stroked his tongue against mine, and I whimpered, my hands tangling in his T-shirt to pull him even closer. I felt his self-satisfied smile against my lips, prodding as if to say, _Feel this? I'm doing it to you_. _Only I can. No one can even come close to making you feel what I could. You're mine._

I pushed onto my tiptoes and kissed him harder.

When he pulled away a minute later, he nibbled on my bottom lip just a bit, and I thought I might just fall down into a heap on the ground. He kept me pressed full-body against him with his fingers splayed at the base of my spine, his mouth brushing over my temple. "So, I'm not sure if you got my incredibly subtle subtext there," he said, breathless, "but I'd really like it if you stayed the hell away from Marcus, okay?"

I opened my eyes, feeling dazed and high. "Yeah, I got that subtext." My heart pounded overtime, unable to calm down as long as he was standing so close. "Although, I won't do that. I cannot not see him. Just like Gon is to you, Marcus is a permanent part of my life that I can't imagine being without."

His voice was hard when he asked, "Do you tell him the same about me?"

"Doesn't matter if I do. He'd never approve of us, and he'd keep looking for that moment when we call it an end. Just like the guys I work with, who think that because I'm with you, I must be a walking virus and probably think that when I get all cranky, it's because I have morning sickness from carrying a little Zaoldyeck demon in my belly."

Killua's gaze narrowed. "Marcus is waiting for us to break up?" he repeated my answer, ignoring everything but the first words out of my mouth. A scoff escaped him. "Fantastic. Makes me like him that much more."

I cupped his jaw in my hands and told him firmly, "I'm asking you again: don't act like a nut job. This is nonnegotiable, Killua. I've known Marcus way before I knew you."

"I've known you since you were seven! You've met me first!"

I smiled at that. I couldn't help it. "Baby… I'm late to work. Raincheck on the argument?"

"Fine, whatever." He pulled away, still looking a little petty.

I settled inside the car. "What am I going to do about the guys at work?"

As he adjusted the rear view mirror, Killua said, "Ignore them. Pretend they don't exist."

"What if one of them straight out asks me to define my relationship with you?"

He waited until I had my seatbelt then put the car in drive. "Deny it. Tell them I'm chasing after you but you're being full-on female and not giving it to me."

I laughed, then teased, "And if Marcus asks?"

"Tell the jerk we're engaged."

* * *

I spent the rest of the morning trying to pull myself into some version of professional. It didn't help that everyone in the mansion hated my guts—or just looked at me like I'd eaten their mothers' heads. Because of my reputation as the 'Zaoldyeck Girl', I was suddenly a social outcast. Everyone thought I was a freak. Everyone talked about me behind my back. Even the maids leered at me. I was officially the Bride of Frankenstein in this place, without the electro-fro. Good thing it was nearly the end of October.

When it was my fifteen-minute lunch break, I gave them all a mild version of Killua's death glare and went to hide in my favorite place. The gym. It had become my and Pepper's hidden spot during this month, where we hunkered like two kids under a blanket tent with a flashlight as he whispered to me stories about the Zaoldyecks as if they were National Secrets. Today he was too busy dealing with Neon's Spoiled Daddy's Girl Syndrome, so I was all by myself.

Ready to punch out my frustration, I shrugged out of my trench coat and grabbed some boxing gloves, resolve firmly in place. I often came here when I wanted to purge some of the emotional pressure that had been building inside me this entire whole month.

As I approached the boxing room, I stared at the bag hung from the ceiling. I pretended it was the core of all my problems and let go. My arms pumping as I pummeled the hell out of it. Jabs and upper-cuts blended into thumping roundhouses.

I grunted every time I hit the bag, anger building in my chest and seeping through my fists. The gloves thumped and smacked. I could feel the force of them through my skin.

I was desperate. Hitting, and hitting, and hitting, and getting no satisfaction from it. It should make me happy to release all that pent-up aggression, but it didn't. It made my throat tighten with emotions of helplessness I absolutely didn't want to feel.

I had learned two things this month. One, Killua had unresolved issues with Illumi. Two, it terrified him when people ran away from him.

What if I was being _pushed_ away from him?

What if Gon was forced to run away, too?

Illumi was after me, for reasons I had no clue about or control over. Who knew what he was up to.

I was thankful I didn't show Killua the Letter too soon. I knew it was terrible to hide this from him, but now I knew telling him would have the same effect of telling a kid Santa did not exist and then taking all of the presents he spent years wanting to unwrap.

I was unaware of what he would do now if found out. I was unaware of what his family wanted to do. Why weren't they _doing_ anything? What was the point of sending me that Letter? What was Illumi waiting for? Why wasn't he attacking me already? Did he enjoy hanging there over me like a dark cloud that just wouldn't go away? Or was it just so entertaining for him to watch me lose my mind? Try to balance myself on this tight, thin rope between 'knowing the potentially harsh truth' and 'living with the horrific expectation of the unknown'?

I continued punishing the bag, arms flying, body pivoting to give me more power. I kicked it, kneed it, pretended it was Illumi's jerk-face. Used so much force I felt the vibration through the floor. I got faster and faster, and my noises become more furious until finally, I stopped and gripped the bag, gasping for breath, my face morphing into one of total defeat.

I was stuck.

Nonplussed.

Tired of hitting something that didn't hit me back.

_Illumi Zaoldyeck_, I thought, _hit me. For the love of my increasingly desperate brain cells, hit me! Show your face and let's have at it._

"Fuck it," I whispered as I pressed my forehead into the _Nostrad_ logo. "Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it."

It was like playing chess with an insane person. I had a thousand different moves I could make, a thousand different possibilities to defend against, only that I didn't know the rules of _his_ game, for he would simply change them, use them against me, and form his own punishments.

I ripped off the gloves and threw them at the wall, then landed one last blow with my bare hand. The punching bag exploded with a sound like a gunshot, steel chains snapping and tearing free from the ceiling as it spilled in a shower of sand and simulated leather. I threw myself onto the floor with them, my back hitting the mat. Catching my breath, I blinked up the ceiling.

I needed a sign…a thread to grasp…a path to follow…_anything_. Anything would be better than just sitting there. Waiting. Something had to be done before the tattered rope snapped in two, along with my sanity.

The door of the gym creaked open. I craned my head to see the intruder, and found the shaded eyes of one of the beefed up security guards I was in charge for.

"Yuki-san," he began, "Nostrad-sama wants to see you in his study."

I bristled at the unexpected notification. Nostrad never asked for a private meeting with me, let alone in his personal office, which was in his personal _floor_ that no one was allowed up in besides Jei. The only communication we had had in the past had been through Kurapika or Jei. I didn't recall him saying more than a dozen words to me altogether during the two months I had been working for him.

"You can go. I'll be there in a minute."

Trying to pay no mind to the nervousness brought on by uncertainty, I buttoned my coat and smoothed its creases. I freed my now-lopsided ponytail and fussed with my hair until I looked presentable enough; then schooled my face into impassivity, forcing myself to slide back into work mode.

A minute later, as I hurried down the many hallways of the top floor, I ran into Jei―quite literally.

"Hey, what the hell!" Jei said discourteously until he noticed it was me. He ripped his earphones out of his ears and shook his head at me. "Yuki? Geez, so you still have trouble walking and breathing at the same time."

"So you still have trouble talking and not being a douche at the same time."

He looked at me like I had slapped him but then smirked. "Touché." He started following me like my shadow. "What are you doing on this floor?" he asked. "Aren't you supposed to be Neon's dog handler downstairs?"

"The big boss wants to see me."

"What?" That made Jei frown. He looked pissed all of a sudden. "Why the hell would he want to see you?"

Lifting my shoulders in a what-can-ya-do shrug, I left a confused Jei behind me as I walked down the hallway that led to Light Nostrad's private bureau. I knocked on the floor-to-ceiling doors of his home office. I let myself in after hearing a call out from within, stepping inside a spacious room filled with antiques and art anchored by Aubusson rugs laid over gleaming hardwood floors. I briefly caught a glimpse of Nostrad's guest who had his back to me, staring out one of the windows, but dutifully forced my attention only to my boss.

"Sir." I straightened and hooked my hands behind my back.

"Hello, Yuki." Against the backdrop of sky and skyscrapers, Nostrad looked accomplished and powerful. He was holding a folder with a large black _Confidential_ stamp on it and a printed image of me that I knew were filled with my hunter history. "After taking a good look on the missions you've accomplished for the Hunter Committee, I've decided to entrust you to do me a very personal mission."

"Oh?" I was a little surprised, because I was never told I'd be doing anything for the Nostrads beyond keeping the precious daughter and Jei safe. Kurapika never mentioned this to me, which made me realize that he probably didn't know of what Nostrad was about to ask me.

"Last year, my daughter desired a particular treasure in the underground auction, a treasure that had been unfortunately claimed by someone else. Fortunately though, the winner has generously offered to let me buy it with half the price it had retailed at in the auction."

_Half the price…oh wow_. _That's one helluva deal_.

Wait a minute there_…_I remembered saying these exact same words just this morning when Killua was telling me about—

"I'd like you to meet my guest." Nostrad gestured at the man by the window who spun in a one-eighty dramatic flair of authority to face me, and I found myself looking into the dreadfully familiar laughing eyes of: "Mr. Rhyme Cash."

The name struck fear in my heart and my eyes widened considerably. _N-No fucking way!_ _You've _got_ to be kidding me!_

Cash stood there, smiling at me, oozing with stalker vibes. "Yuki-san. I knew we'd meet again."

Nostrad continued, "Mr. Cash has agreed to allow me to send someone to pick the treasure up from one of his properties. He personally prefers to have a certain degree of familiarity with the people he does business with, and since he has requested you by the name, I've decided you'd be the best for the position."

I stood there for a few seconds like a goldfish, listening to my boss with a look of confusion. It didn't help my supreme shock—and poorly masked anger—that Cash was still smiling at me.

This man couldn't get any creepier.

"Ah, well." Cash slapped both hands together, watching me with a touch of amusement. "I have a time-sensitive job waiting for me outside of York Shin, and so I'm only available for the next forty-eight hours before I'm forced to run away to it…" He deliberately let his sentence linger as he looked at me with a knowing gaze.

_48 hours…forced…run away_. _He knew that I knew! Good god. Is there anything the mafia could not know? _

"Better hurry up then. Yuki." Nostrad ordered, "I'd like the treasure to be in my daughter's possession this evening. I'll leave you two to pick the time and place."

"Yuki-san." Cash's smile was like old money; cultured and superior. "It'd be a good chance for me to finally have a drink with you."

I was royally screwed.

* * *

"You have got some nerve!" I snapped once Cash and I existed Nostrad's personal office and entered a conference room surrounded by glass walls that faced the rest of the command center. It was where we were supposed to 'discuss our deal' but I just wanted to vent and bitch about this sticky situation he'd put me in. "What is the matter with you? Because I'm mentally old enough to be over the finding-stalkers-attractive thing."

Cash laughed. "You're not going to tell him about this. Not this time."

"Oh, yeah?" I seethed at him, sick and bored of his games. Especially now that he'd brought them to my damned work and forced me to play.

"Yeah. You're not going to tell your little Zaoldyeck about this because now you can see how much I want to have a drink with you, and it's making you interested to know why."

His smile made me wonder if I was somehow playing right into his hands, right from the start. I didn't know if I could, but I was smart enough to know that underestimating people like him was a fatal error. Even though attacking a Zaoldyeck could prove otherwise, Cash wasn't a dumb man. He might be lacking in physical strength but he was a decent nen user with a perilous mind.

"What is this, exactly? Why are you still chasing me? Ohh, lemme guess, you thought it'd be just like the movies? Force the heroine into the mouse trap in order to capture the hero? Well news flash: this heroine can kick ass."

Cash shook his head. "Clichés don't interest me. All I want is to have a drink with a beautiful young woman."

I raised my eyebrows. He was so shameless, it was frightening. "Is that so? And why do you think _she_'d be interested in that?"

"Because she's got everything I need. I take good care of my needs."

"And I protect what's mine." I scowled and took a step toward him. "If you're pulling this stunt to hurt Killua or anyone close to him, then so help me God, I will chop off your poison conjuring fingers and shove them up somewhere else."

His smile had the edge that never failed to get my back up. "You and him are so fierce in protecting one another. Imagine my consternation when I found him in my hotel's living room in the early light of dawn. He sat there, condemned with my poison, yet he was undeniably in command of himself and of me. I realized he's just invulnerable. I'm not enough of a fool to take him for anything else. So no, I'm no longer interested in doing the Heir any harm."

"Good." But it sent chills up my spine when I imagined what Killua must have said to him that made him agree to _leave the city_. I wasn't sure I wanted to know, really.

"If I knew he was hiding you all this time, I wouldn't have bothered to pay him any visit." He touched my necklace. "This is lovely, by the way. Not something you picked up at a random jewelry store, now is it?"

I smacked his hand away. "Don't touch me. I'm crazy and I've got quite the temper."

"I'm not the one you should be afraid of, Yuki-san." His continuous use of my name annoyed me almost as much as his smiles did. "I don't want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. In fact, I want you very much alive, and if you're smart, you're going to accept my invitation."

When I craned my neck, I saw Jei standing outside the glass doors, his icy green eyes staring at Cash with such intensity I almost squirmed. He looked even more pissed than the last time I'd seen him…for some reason. I mouthed, _Sorry_, before I hit a button on the wall that instantly frosted the clear glass walls, effectively shielding Cash and I from the view of any mind readers in sight.

I faced Cash again. "If retaliation is not what you want anymore, what brings you back?"

"I've told you." He walked over with one hand in his slacks pocket. "You. I need you."

Not want; _need_. I was starting to get really creeped out, but still, I maintained a straight face. "And what do you want from me?"

"Now? Here?" He waved one hand around the luxurious room. "What I want to talk to you about deserves a better setting. If you're interested, come to this place. At sunset." He pulled his hand out of his pocket, clasping a piece of torn paper in the space between us. He'd obviously prepared the address because he already knew that he'd succeed in having me cornered.

"You already have to come to take Nostrad-san's package. Might as well stay for a little chat. What would you say?"

I eyed the paper disinterestedly. "I'd say you have to convince me and make me interested. You have thirty seconds."

"Smart girl," Cash praised with a smirk. "What if I told you that _I _would like to give you a very private mission? A mission that might change your entire life forever?"

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Nop. Not good enough. Twenty seconds."

"What if I told you that I know some precious truths about you that even _you_ don't know?"

I almost wavered. "Explain. Ten."

Cash's voice lowered into a harsh whisper. Hearing the next words that came out of his mouth was like watching a train wreck.

"What if I told you that the reason why the Zaoldyecks blackmailed you has nothing to do with the relationship you hold with the Heir? That it's all you? And that I know, exactly, why they are—and always will be—after you?"

I needed a sign.

A thread to grasp.

A path to follow_. _

Anything was better than waiting.

Reaching out, I slipped the paper out of his hand.

* * *

It was almost sunset when I went back to change in the suit. I found it empty; the boys were probably roaming the streets doing their best Batman impression to pass their restless days. I went to my closet, dressed up real quick, pulled my hair up in a ponytail and left a note for Killua on his bed before leaving, though I hoped I would be back before he would have to read it.

Lights went out by my movements when I scrambled my way out of the expansive living room to the foyer. I barely managed to put on my bra on my way down the elevator—not that I had much to support in the first place, mind you. The doors dinged and I stepped out into the lobby of the hotel. As I fought with my bra strap, the busty receptionist—_Darcie_—eyed me skeptically. I eyed her back with a glare, daring her to say something.

I raced my way out of the hotel and hopped on the bike. After a blurry drive, I pulled into one of the marina's driveways and killed the engine.

I sauntered towards the docks where more than two dozen boats were bobbing in the water of York Shin's _Red Lake_. The sun was behind the clouds, almost behind the horizon, casting deep colors of pink and purple over the sky.

Reaching for my belt, I found my baby. I pulled out the sterling platinum, leather handled, hunting knife that fit perfectly in my hand and had nearly molded itself to my body for five years now. It was my go-to weapon, and I cherished it since it was given to me by my master. It looked like just any other ancient, plain knife, but it wasn't.

Squeezing the knife's handle in a good grip, I channeled some of my aura into my hand until a dim red glow skirted the edges of the curved, serrated-edged blade. Crouching down on one knee, I tested the nen-engulfed knife on the stone flooring of the marina. The blade plunged into the stone effortlessly with a thick _hiss_, melting the hard material of the ground like acid, the newly burnt hole dripping red molten rock.

I stood upright again with a proud smile. I was good to go.

Attacking Cash tonight wasn't on my agenda, but making him pay for dragging me here like this was a must-do. The knife could come in handy in case I felt like literally melting that damned pseudo-smile off his pretty face.

I glanced up as an orange haze cast above the horizon, lighting up the sky as if lit by fire, crisp and clear with colors floating over the lake's water. The sun in the distance was partially cloaked by the hanging clouds and seemed to look at me with a dull glare, knowing that its support and the planet's dependence on it for survival made up for it. It began to sink lower and lower in a lazy manner; almost as if it never wanted to leave.

A hush of silence surrounded the empty marina as a gentle breeze rippled through the otherwise calm sunset air, kissing my cheeks and fluttering my hair. Everything began looking transparent and hazy – like a mirage. The magical atmosphere gave me_ il freddo_.

Il freddo or The Chill, as I called it, was the feeling I often got when going into situations like these. I was ten the first time I'd truly felt it, when I was chased by two Black Bullhunters, the rarest type of wild dogs that lived exclusively in the mountain regions. Il freddo was my survival instinct telling me to run but at this point in my life, I had been able to suppress that emotion. Now, a slight coldness would just creep through my body when I got into business mode.

I slipped the piece of paper Cash had given me out of my pants and made it to the wooden pier, with boats on either side of me. My heeled booties made clacking noises on the wood until I was facing a massive boat, no yacht, at the end of the wharf. It bore the feminine name that was written on the paper. _Bellissa_.

I looked like a dwarf compared to it. What self-respecting multi-billionaire didn't own a humongous ship, anyway?

The steps to the yacht were right at the pier line, so I didn't have to step very high as I went up onto the deck of the boat that was illuminated by soft lighting from the floorboards and overhead. I was more than a little surprised when I saw a waiting staff with pressed suits and pearly white smiles expecting me.

"Miss." An older gentleman with a white beard tipped his head to me. "My name is Donn and I'll be your guide for the evening."

"Hi, Donn. Beautiful sunset, huh?" I eyed the men, knowing there was a chance I might be coming up against them if Cash gave me a hard time tonight. They were quite harmless, seemingly like any staff in a ship. One couldn't tell they were carrying a sidearm under their uniforms by looking at them; they wore it so comfortably.

"Always. It gets chillier in the evening though." Donn clapped his hands and the staff quickly spread out, going to do different things. "Mr. Cash is waiting for you. Allow me to take you to him."

I let the kind man lead me to the deck where his boss was, slightly uneasy but masking it well. I was taken to the deck of the very fine ship where Cash came into view.

His dark reddish hair was cut shorter, his blue eyes glowing in the sunset behind him, his smile as innocent as ever, and he was dressed in a white shirt and graphite gray slacks. Killua's threat must have shaken him up because there seemed to be more lines etched onto his young face, which was still good-looking nonetheless.

It had been less than three hours since the last time I'd seen him, but when he greeted me, his eyes sparkled as if we were two homies reuniting after decades of separation.

"Yuki-san…what a pleasure. Thank you for coming," he said politely, looking me up and down. "I'm feeling exceptionally fortunate tonight, and you do look like my lucky charm." He glanced approvingly down my outfit and stilettos booties. "Though are you sure you can still be a kick-ass heroine wearing this?"

"You mean the heels?" I scoffed in a decidedly arrogant way. "Yeah. It's going to take more than a fight with someone like you to bring me down four inches."

Cash snorted delicately at the not-too-subtle insult. "Are you always this direct?"

I shrugged. "I get tetchy when I'm forced to do something against my will."

"And that's the last thing I want." He smiled as he approached me. He looked like he was about to grab both my hands, but my posture altered subtly, charging the air around me with a palpable field of coldness.

Cash drew to an abrupt halt. Then his mouth twisted on one side. "Still cautious. I like that. But don't you think it's too much? Why are you wearing gloves?"

"Because mittens are tacky."

He laughed too heartily at my deadpan answer, and the sound made him look like a jovial teenager instead of a ruthless mob boss. "You can say that you refrain from touching anything I own in case I've laced it with poison. Say it. Won't blame you, but it breaks my heart that you think so low of me."

_Man. Is he kidding me? Expecting me to trust him is like asking a claustrophobic to bury themselves in a dark pit with a venomous cobra._

"I'd like to see Nostrad's _package_ before we do our little bit of business."

"Absolutely. This way."

The treasure Nostrad wanted was in a clinical laser room and wrapped in a velvety black blanket. It was a human heart, stored in water-logged chest of glass free of oxygen, over a podium like a real piece of jewelry. It was probably worth billions. I knew there was a story behind it, but I had no time to ask for it now. The heart in question belonged to a criminal that was once thrown in Fecciafort.

Fecciafort was a prison established by a blacklist hunter nearly two centuries ago. Located in the middle of an ocean, Fecciafort or _Fort of Scum_ was an oval-shaped fort with nen-proofed walls. It was highly secured and only the most dangerous criminals were locked up there. Whoever went there, never came back. At least not alive.

During the nearly three years I'd worked for the Hunter Committee, I'd worked under Lippo's direction. My one job was to hunt down and capture the ordinary criminals the world had to offer us. That type was known as the 'vanilla' criminals. Too common, too run-of-the-mill…they were nothing but a bunch of sick, derogatory sociopaths who just wanted to watch the world burn. They were often bloodthirsty, mentally disturbed, or too mentally advanced they, well, went insane. Nothing special. Lippo liked to unleash those on the examinees of the Hunter Exam.

The other type was the A-class type. The master criminals. Those were walking weapons of destruction. Masterminds who were vicious, calculating, psychopathic without necessarily being inherently evil. They were methodical, logical, crafty, slippery and smart nen users. Living examples were the Zaoldyecks, the Spiders, and a few mobsters.

Vanilla criminals were considered 'amateurs' to the A-class criminals. While a vanilla criminal could plan a decent crime…a master criminal could plan the destruction of an entire city. And while vanilla criminals went to normal prisons, master criminals went to Fecciafort. Only an incredibly skilled hunter could throw an A-class criminal in Fecciafort.

Cash led me back to the deck where we were supposed to have our little conversation.

Above deck, there was tons of space all on deep hardwood floors that looked like they belonged in a fancy house somewhere. The sun was setting as we stood over the back railing. The boat took off from the docks and we were soon sailing around Red Lake.

"I saw you reading books about the Zaoldyecks in that cafeteria," Cash said as the darkness slowly took over the sky and stars started to light it up like fireflies at a swamp. "Reading these books won't help you. In order to fully understand the dynamic of the Zaoldyecks, you have to go way back and find out more about Maha Zaoldyeck."

Maha Zaoldyeck? I'd heard of that name before. "And how do you know about him?"

Cash gestured at a round dining table adorned with candles and a white sheet and…a chessboard—a smooth, shining board with pieces sculpted of black and white marble. "I can't give away all my secrets, Yuki-san. That would take the thrill out of the interest I'm trying to bestow on you."

"Well you're not doing a good job so far," I said as he pulled out my chair. "How's a game of chess going to improve my disposition?"

"It will." Cash situated himself opposite the table behind the black set. "By the time our game ends, you will quite interested."

"I was promised drink and conversation. That was all I agreed to tonight," I reminded him firmly.

He smiled indulgently. "Trust me. Please make the first move."

I shook my head at the scene before me and prayed for patience. _This is going to be a long meeting…. _Clumsily, I moved a pawn._  
_

"You will find the key to the mystery you are examining, Yuki-san, when you think of your life as a game of chess," Cash mused. "You can end up with thrusting positions, positions you have never tried before and positions that require a lot of intricacy in the middle. People are like chess pieces; each has a value that represents its power in the game."

"The pawn works the hardest, moves the slowest with limited steps. He has no control over the situation and is likely to be used and manipulated." Cash moved one pawn forward—the one standing directly before the king. "But if you take him out, everything may collapse in the Kingdom."

I pondered this as I moved another pawn. Killua had referred to himself as a pawn this very morning. He was used, controlled, and manipulated. 'Moved around and carefully casted,' as he put out. Could this mean that as long as Killua was out of his 'Kingdom,' chaos would keep on happening?

Could _this_ be the main point of the Letter?

Cash moved his knight. "The knight is cunning and sneaky, with a quirky way to deal with troubles. He doesn't break the wall; he jumps over it, all the while proving that erratic behavior is sometimes good."

Knight. _Knights_.

'_Double-starred Knights_.'

Could it be possible that the Letter was referring to the _two_ knights of chess? Did the Letter mean _two_ people in particular? People I'd met, known and associated with? People I _still_ associated with? If that was the case, then there was definitely something linking me to the them. Some implicit bond I was unaware of.

Were these two knights the isosceles angles of the triangle Marcus had spoken of?

…Was _I_ the head of that triangle?

Was there some deeper meaning behind all this? Some metaphor I was missing? Some secret aim I couldn't possibly begin to imagine?

"The Knight is my favorite," I muttered absentmindedly, mimicking his move.

"I bet he is." His pawn came up to protect his knight and he laughed. "Mine is the bishop. He's a proof that two differences—_black and white_—can work together and create something brilliant." His eyes bore into mine. Something passed between us with that small confession.

My eyes closed irritably. "Can we cut to the chaise, please? I don't have the whole night."

"We are getting there," he promised. "This is all but a part of it. Besides, the more you listen to me, the more it is for _your_ benefit."

I looked away, hiding my scowl.

Cash reached out to move another piece. "The queen. She's the most important player on the board. She's a protector, has the greatest moves and the best strategy. She gets to protect her king for different reasons than the other guys do. She protects him because she loves him. It's what makes her special; she's working from a place of love and not just loyalty like the other players. It's what makes her so powerful; her love. She uses her power to take to the haven and destroy you."

"That's not true," I said. "The king is the most important piece. Everyone is willing to die to keep him alive. If he's captured, the game is over. Nothing matters anymore if the king dies. Not the pawn's sacrifices, not the knight's wit, and certainly not the queen's love."

"So cynical, Yuki-san. So doubting and contemptuous of the human nature. I see it's too hard for you to see goodness in others, especially in yourself."

I didn't disagree. "What's your point?"

"My point is you're wrong. You're bigger than you give yourself credit for. You're the queen of your own chessboard." His bishop made an appearance, threatening my pawn.

I moved my bishop up to threaten his and said wryly, "You speak as if you're so richly knowledgeable when it comes to my trivia."

His pawn moved up two spaces, threatening my own as he laughed. "That's true. I could impress you by how much I know about your personal trivia," he said, emphasizing the _personal_ part.

My second knight came out of hiding and I waved a dismissive hand. "You could try."

His bishop took mine, then he said:

"You're Yuki Kudo, a daughter of two infamous mafia spies and a sister of one loving, college sophomore—and they were all assassinated by your Zaoldyeck boyfriend when he was a kid just like you. I know that you've mastered nen at the age of ten, then left your master the year after that to go on your own. It was sheer instinct that made you become a blacklist hunter. I know that you usually refrain from killing, because you feel it would not make you any better than the criminals you deal with, but you're more than willing to kill for your master. I know you're a skilled Manipulator, but you're not a casual manipulator in your everyday life." He smiled at his own pun.

Ha. Somebody had done his homework.

I snorted and moved my knight closer—probing, not yet threatening. "Do you also know my shoe and ring sizes?"

"Not yet." He laughed at my exasperated growl. "Collecting tidbits of knowledge is necessary to know what you're dealing with. Isn't that why you're still here?"

"Not when you're testing my patience." I glared. "If you don't give me something worthy to chew on in the next two minutes, I'm out of this."

"We're still sailing."

"I'm a good swimmer. Did any of your searches dig that up?" I countered archly.

"Alright, alright." He held hands up in surrender. "Ask me. Those answers you want from me… I need you to ask the questions."

I stewed for a second. "What made you assume I was blackmailed by the Zaoldyecks?"

"An educated guess. They have been your enemy for a long time, even before you were born."

Shock surged, followed by chilling fear. "And that has nothing to do with Killua?"

"No. The Heir was a clever way they used to bring you on their chessboard, and force you to fight under their rules."

"And what's _your_ position on the chessboard? What's in it for you?" I asked.

"You. My business is all about you. My position and experience in the underworld grants me the clandestine information you need and opens so many doors for you. What I'm offering you is a deal that is going to speed the process of you solving the mystery of the Zaoldyeck's blackmail. Stick with me, and the answers are all yours."

"What deal?"

His smile was good-natured as he moved his queen forward. "I believe you've heard of Zymiral, the head of Zymiral's crime dynasty."

My king retreated shamefully and I said, "Of course. My parents worked for him."

"Perhaps you also know that Zymiral was the hiring party in your family's assassination."

I bristled. "I've heard of that theory. It's plausible, but it wouldn't be the first time a mafia syndicate took down its own people."

"True, but let me ask you: Don't you think it's odd? Zymiral is powerful enough to hire somebody from inside his syndicate to do the assassination, so why did he choose the Zaoldyecks in particular for the job?"

I thought about it and came up empty, which made me scowl. "Where are you going with this?"

"In our world, Zymiral is the be all and end all. He is known as the _Capo di Tutti Capi_ or the Boss of all Bosses. He currently rules all crime activity dealing throughout the country, including all of your boss's—_Light Nostrad's_—business. Out of the three major mafia families, his syndicate is the highest on the chain and Zymiral is a god, if you will."

"And let me guess_…_" I met his eyes. "You want what he has."

Cash was suddenly frustrated, staring down at the board with a furrowed brow. I didn't believe for a moment that his frustration had anything to do with my superb chess-playing skills. "When my partner was assassinated seven years ago, I was grievously wounded. My empire was in shambles, and my family was scattered. But when you fall, you have to rise, that's a mob rule."

My phone vibrated then. I ignored it.

"See, Yuki-san, in the underworld, the mob rules are four. One, no rooms for rats; never divulge any mafia secrets even if you were threatened by torture or death. Two, always obey the boss's orders. Three, family members must be avenged. And four, never—_ever—_mess with the Zaoldyecks." His bishop crowded in.

My king retreated as far as he could and I said nothing.

"My partner's and the Kudos' assassinations took place around the same time. Boy, that was a bad decade. York Shin was being torn by underworld strife, wars flared up, while I tried to keep my borders and rackets secure. I had taken my precautions despite the crippling blows my family had dealt with, and when my empire was internally secure, I started the process of dealing with my enemies. When I heard that the Zaoldyeck's heir gave up on his family's occupation, I searched for him."

"Terrible decision," I scoffed as I castled my king.

"Wasn't the best," Cash agreed with a smile. "The Heir was never my enemy. The assassin is just a tool in the game. When you're being attacked, you're just an imbecile if you're trying to hit the knife instead of hitting the person _holding_ the knife. I assume you know the rest of that story."

I was going to say yes, but my phone began rattling again. It was vibrating nonstop, so I reached inside my pocket and shut it off. "And what is it that you want to achieve?"

"Right now, I've worked out a system of organization. I've decided to bring peace to all the warring factions in York Shin and then in the nation. And the only way for me to do that is if I reach the top of the chain. And the only way for me to be on top is to overthrow Zymiral off his throne." A flicker of a smile came to his lips, and his eyes were both tortured and triumphant as he moved his queen in for the kill. "Checkmate."

The sound of my king as it fell seemed much louder than it should have in the silence that followed. I watched it roll from one side of the board, suddenly unable to meet Cash's somber gaze.

Curious, I forced my eyes to rise from my prone king and leaned forward, placing my elbows on my knees. "Seriously, dude. You want me to kill the head of the most deadly gang in organized crime."

"No. All you have to do is show your face to him. Two months from now, Zymiral is hosting a masquerade party to conceal the identity of his communist co-conspirators behind masks. I'll give you the secret location to the event. If you're smart enough to get Zymiral alone, he'll reveal some ugly secrets to you. If you want to know what the Zaoldyecks want, you need to go back to the source. The reason why Zymiral hired them to do the assassination of your parents."

_Show my face? That makes no freakin' sense._ Besides: "What makes you so sure I'm not going to abandon you after I get what I want from him?"

Cash's smile was cocky. "Because Zymiral doesn't have all the answers you need. His information is limited, mine is not. You'll be forced to come back to me for more clues."

The next second, my phone buzzed again. Fed up, I finally took it out of my pocket and checked the caller, and my eyes nearly bulged at the screen when I saw Killua's name.

Killua was calling me. And I was ignoring him this whole time. Crap.

"I have to take this." Distracted, I left my chair and moved to the opposite side of the deck to get some privacy. I tried to sound as bright as possible when I picked up. "Hey, Kil—"

"Yuki! Finally." Killua sounded so anxious. "Where the hell are you?"

"Killua, calm down. I'm fine—"

"Don't. I know you're messing around behind my back," he gritted out, making my pulse quicken and my eyes close. "Tell me where you are. I need to find you _now_." He was breathing quickly and I could hear the sounds of traffic and a car engine roar in the background. He was moving. He was moving here. He was coming after me.

I couldn't let that happen. Not now. He shouldn't come here. He shouldn't. He shouldn't.

"I will be back in ten minutes tops, I swear," I said hastily, desperate to stop him. "Please don't do anything. Whatever Jei told you—"

"Jei knows where you are?"

"No, he—" I started to say, but he already hung up. "Damn it!" I whispered harshly down the phone screen. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could I be so damned stupid? Why did I mention Jei? He was probably calling him right now, and I knew Jei would definitely rat on me. He would tell Killua about Cash's visit to the Nostards. Killua knew everything about Cash. He knew his numbers, locations, properties…and he could track down absolutely anything.

This _had_ to end now.

I ran to where I left Cash on the table. "We have to sail back to the marina. I have to go."

"Of course." Cash understood and nodded, his calm demeanor soothing me a little. I knew that just like me, he wouldn't want to deal with Killua's arrival right now. He ordered the staff to pilot the ship back, then told me, "Let's wrap this up then, shall we?"

I quickly went back to our topic. One question was running on a loop through my mind. "Why me? Of all the people in the world, all the professional assassins and blacklist hunters in the country, why did you choose me for this?"

"Because you're the only one who can. Your mere existence is your most powerful weapon. If Zymiral knew _you_ were after him, his entire syndicate would shake on its axis."

My head spun. "Why, because I was the daughter of the employees he planned an assassination for? Pretty sure he doesn't give a crap about that or me."

His smug smile was back. He enjoyed having me rattled. "I can't explain. You should earn the answer to that. As I told you before, my dear, you are much bigger than you give yourself credit for." Cash motioned for Donn to come closer. The old man obeyed, handing me a manila envelope and a paper.

"Asking the right questions is the key to learning. In your hand you have all the questions you need to ask in order to know the Truth. Once Zymiral's syndicate is on the ground, I will be handing you all the answers."

Frowning, I picked up the paper and read the most peculiar list of questions.

_1. What is the hidden mystery behind The Queen Mission eight years ago?  
2. Who is Dred Vyzotsky?  
3. What is it that the Zaoldyecks want out of you?  
4. What is the true story behind Maha Zaoldyeck?_

I could feel the lingering frustration falling away from me, replaced by my growing interest and curiosity.

"Took me ten years to obtain all the answers," Cash confessed. "It wasn't easy. But I didn't give up. Giving up is the only path to failure. What about you, Yuki-san?" He held my gaze. "Are you going to give up? Are you going to sit there and wait for the cards to uncover themselves? Or are you going to keep going? Because a strong woman never gets her eyes off the ball. Do you want to be the girl who gets the guy? Or do you want to be a strong woman who fights for what she has?"

My heart started to pound.

"This is going to be your fight for freedom. You're gonna have to fight to get yourself and everyone you love off the bloody chessboard, and you're gonna have to come out alive with the least amount of harm. And you will, if you follow my lead."

Reaching out, I opened the manila envelope and found personal profiles, pictures, statistics, and reports about Zymiral and his company. They all looked dangerously confidential.

"You have a way to destroy Zymiral, the sole reason your family is dead now and one of the most impregnable, organized crime syndicates in the world. You have a chance to avenge your loved ones and carve your name in history as a blacklist hunter. I am giving you the _darkest_ list of all. Free information. I'm giving you locations, family members, actual names." He leaned forward. "I'm breaking all my rules for you."

I closed the envelope without a word, folded it, and tucked it in the inside pocket of my coat.

Cash smiled, a look of pure triumph crossing his face. He left his chair, walking to stand right before me. "I'll give you all the winning cards. It's an opportunity you have to take. It'll open doors for you, doors you didn't even know about. It'll allow you to make a name for yourself. What would you say?" His hand came to rest gently on my forearm. "Would you like to be my queen?"

But before I could answer, before I could move or even blink, the atmosphere suddenly shifted in the ship, heightening all my senses. The temperature of the air around me suddenly dropped a hundred degrees.

The silence had become deadly, menacing.

Something moved toward us, a sharp flash of a small object flying through the air at unfathomable speed. My hand was a blur of motion as I managed to grasp it before it went directly through me.

Cash, however, wasn't fast enough.

Wasn't lucky enough.

Something had pierced him in the throat, the oozing splash of blood making it hard to distinguish the weapon used. He chocked out a scream. He made no sound as his body jerked violently and shuddered with a hiss of pain, his eyes fixed and sightless. He dropped his arms that had briefly clutched at his wound and allowed himself to bask in the silence death always brought.

Another flash of movement followed the first.

In a split second, Cash lost his head.

Blood gushed out of his nostrils and mouth while rivulets of the crimson liquid flowed down both sides of his neck, leading a trail through his throat, shoulders, the white shirt, his legs, and all the way onto the French oak floor.

His head hit the floor first with a bone shattering _crunch_, then tumbled and tumbled only a few inches from my feet – a thick trail of blood following behind him. Cash's body slumped out and fell limply to the floor, sprawled in a pool of his blood, arms in disarray and legs only bent in the slightest. The chessboard fell with him, the various little figures clattering onto the ground and shrieking in indignation.

Donn gasped. The staff around me all panicked, their faces white as they stared astonished at their boss's decapitated corpse.

_Who…could possibly…_I frantically looked around_…do something like this? We're in the middle of a lake, for chrissake!  
_

My stomach churned at the thought of someone lurking there the entire time. Everything inside me went deadly still, all sounds lost to the buzzing in my ears. I looked down at the cold object I had caught between my fingers, the weapon that could instantly chop one's head off… and found a card.

A playing card.

_Jack of Spades_.

"How about I tell you about _my_ Queens?"

I frowned at the smooth, deep voice that resonated from my right, and I searched for the source. It came from above, near the smockstack of the ship.

My muscles stiffened in preparation. I moved subtly, firming my stance and crouching slightly as an incense smell suddenly sweetened the cool air around my face…like cotton candy with the undertones of blood. It grew stronger and _closer_ at an ever increasing rate.

After an elegant descent from the air, a man perched atop the floor and straightened, revealing a tall, powerfully lean body. Highly polished black oxfords draped in tailored black slacks tapped stealthily over the hardwood floor of the ship. The costume suit was inky black, but his tie, dotted with _suit_ symbols, perfectly matched the vibrant color of his hair. It wasn't until I reached the man's face that I went down for the count.

His thick, flaming red hair was overlong and stringy, hanging around his face. His high cheekbones were decorated with carefully applied face paint. His deathly pale skin would make a great canvas, while a cruel mouth, a straight blade of a nose, and fathomless blue eyes made him unnaturally and artistically handsome, his features otherwise schooled into amusement. His eyes were shrewd and assessing as they bore into mine.

Hisoka held one card between his thin, long fingers. "The Queen of Clubs is always ahead of her time. Intuitive, inventive, inspirational, intelligent," he began, voice low and smoothly shifting from word to word like he was bowing a cello rather than speaking. "Often sees beyond the veil that has long hidden the truth."

The staff stepped away from him as he walked slowly, noiselessly, through the deck. The smell of pain and death filled the air.

A man ran. Another groaned. But all sounds went unnoticed next to Hisoka's decadent tone.

He pulled another card.

"The Queen of Diamonds has enough strength to overcome any problem. Graced with sacrifice and sincerity; flawed with indecision and insecurity."

I flinched.

Like a house of cards, the staff started to fall to the ground, one man at a time. They all dropped dead with every swing from Hisoka's wrist. His stride was economical and unwavering as he spoke. "The Queen of Spades is independent, inquiring… impulsive. Always understandable but never oversympathetic."

I fell silent, fascinated by the force of the aura he emitted. The night had gone deadly around me, as if I stood motionless at the center of some great circle of power. It seemed as if everything, the leaden sky, the lake's water, the ground itself, was connected to him. As if he drew power from it all.

"And last but not least…" His hand flicked a card that out of nowhere, his fingers flipping it then studying it with undisguised excitement. "The Queen of Hearts." He looked at me. "Stubborn, secretive, with a spectacular mental potential. She's passionate, she's pleasurable… Thrives for power and thirsts for love. Often finds her way to the heart; always gets through the _head_." He finished with a sublime smile.

I arched an eyebrow at him quizzically, watching as he stepped casually over Cash's headless body and neared me.

"Good evening." Abruptly, Hisoka bent gracefully at the waist and directly before my frozen form, taking my gloved hand in his. I shivered as he closed in on me, his face too close as he stared at my face with those brilliantly insane eyes. "…We haven't officially met."

* * *

**A/N:** *Cue Hisoka's Spanish theme from the 2011 anime*

Sorry, guys, but I had to stop here…or else the chapter would be freakishly long. But anyway, bad luck is kicking Yuki in the guts right now, but our girl isn't going down without a fight. A certain someone is going to get her out of this in the next chapter. I'll be giving out a spoiler for those who can guess who that someone is from the first try. *wink*

I have exciting news!…Sort of. A new flashforward is being written. Problem is, the last time I posted one, some readers freaked out real bad. Let me know if you're ready to handle another glimpse to the future. It's just as intense and juicy as the first one. Tell me in a review if you want it in the next chapter. I'll leave the decision to you, and I'll go with the majority.


	42. Dredful

**A/N:** Thank you guys so much for the amazing, _amazing_ reviews. You are all so cool and smart and I cannot wish for better readers. I'm sorry if the previous author's note has offended anybody, please know that was not my intention at all. It was not meant to be an angry huffy rant by an author who's being grumpy about a mean review or two, it's just a personal opinion of this whole MarySue issue that has been getting so overrated. If I sounded harsh to anybody, be sure it wasn't intended.

Anyhoo, there will be no flashforward in this chapter, sorry guys. Boo, I know. I really wanted you guys to read it, but I have received some negative votes through PMs and now I am torn. Although the flashforward is fully cooked now, I'd hate to ruin the mystery pace for some readers, that's why I'll extend the voting for another chapter. Please let me know how you feel about this.

As you can see, the plot is a lot more complicated than you'd have thought. I noticed that some of you already have theories running around in their heads, which just shows how well you were paying attention, because I have been dropping hints ever since the prologue. How freaking awesome is that? Makes me more excited to reveal the plot twists to you. And don't worry, the story will not end at chapter 45. We are far from over. I still have so much craziness stocked in my puny human head.

Now, now, this chapter is mainly a light-hearted one, but don't be fooled, there are major plot keys in between the lines. Also, the backstory I will be giving the Zaoldyecks by the end of this chapter is one of the story's big reveals. It is not canon; it's new and all mine for the sake of the plot's progression.

Err, I feel like the small conversation between Hisoka and Yuki at the beginning is like a very twisted version of flirting… Oh well, I hope you enjoy. See you at the bottom!

* * *

**_43. Dredful  
_**

* * *

_Abruptly, Hisoka bent gracefully at the waist and directly before my frozen form, taking my gloved hand in his. I shivered as he closed in on me, his face too close as he stared at my face with those brilliantly insane eyes. "…We haven't officially met."_

* * *

The soft trickling of the waves pooling around me created a comforting ambiance. I stood just before the bright glare of the full moon, and studied the dead bodies that scattered the polished wooden floor around me, their lips parted too widely, their limbs frozen, their eyes bloodshot. I was trapped out here with the killer, feeling as if my insides were being sawed in half.

Ha! The irony.

Fear ran through my veins like ice, then it was quickly replaced by burning rage. I tilted my head to glare at the Hisoka, who was still holding my hand. His touch was firm, yet delicate. Upon seeing the horrific repudiation on my face, his cruel smile widened.

The wild part of me, the one that was madly reckless and boldly challenging, wanted me to snark at him. The reasonable part begged me to shut up and save my throat from getting slashed by a playing card. Of course, I knew which part would win.

"I know who you are." I seized my hand hastily out of his and raised a charred eyebrow. "But I didn't know magicians practiced clairvoyance these days."

"You didn't?" A line appeared between Hisoka's sparse eyebrows. "What did you think they practice then?"

"Silence. Sword-swallowing. Fire-breathing. Exhilarating art," I said dryly, even though I knew I should shut up. "I would clap, but your little show wasn't artistic enough." _Jesus, stop, you damned idiot. What the god's name are you doing. It's not so smart to be catty in the presence of deadly clown-like psycopaths.  
_

A ghost of a genuine smile touched Hisoka's lips and made him impossibly more freakishly handsome. "It was exhilarating enough though." One long finger pointed at my chest. "Your heart is pounding."

My brows furrowed in a scowl of anger. Of course my heart was pounding. He was a dangerous, resourceful man who could not be trusted with an inch, because he would take a mile.

"Yuki, was it?" Hisoka crooned. "A very usual name for such an unusual little lady. Tell me, Yu-ki…" He smiled and stepped closer, so close his clothes brushed my own, his eyes fixed on mine. I had no means of escape—he made sure of it. "How scared are you?"

I swallowed. "Scared enough to know I can't fight you. Not so scared that you should feel free to attack or annoy me."

Hisoka's brows arched higher than usual, just for an instant before his features smoothed back to clear amusement. "Quite the little temptress, are you?"

"What do you have up your sleeve, Hisoka?"

Again with the irony.

His face was so playful, it sent a shiver through me. "Magician's code," he simply replied.

My fist clenched around the Jack of Spades in my palm, its edges piercing through my glove and into my flesh. I knew it drew blood, but I was beyond caring. My anger transformed into frustration.

Hisoka noticed and smirked. "Have I stumped you already? Disappointing. My intuition told me you were intelligent."

"I am intelligent," I said automatically, and held my breath. "I'm just starting to feel impatient."

His clawed finger tilted my chin up, tracing along the curve of my jaw. "And what do you usually do when impatient?"

My neck arched involuntarily away from his warm breath that tingled the chilled flesh below my ear. "Something stupid," I answered.

His lips then twisted into a rather playful smile.

"Do you really want to know why I'm here?" His voice was as caressing as his fingers which touched my throat and sudden wind cut through me like a knife. I was frightened now, and I couldn't help it, not with the cold pouring into my skin, chilling my bones. He was a master criminal, that I was sure of. His smile had that clever, dark musings of one slick A-class criminal. But his eyes held the blood-thirsty glint of the vanilla criminal, the impulse insanity, the occasional inhumanity. It was something I'd never seen before in my life.

This was getting _bad_. I thought of slapping his hand away, but I didn't want to be reckless with actions as I was with words. I held my breath as my unblinking eyes stared up at his slitted blue irises that seemed to penetrate my defenses and leave me completely bare.

"I could tell you right now, but I don't think you could handle the answer so soon." Hisoka's voice was soft and chilly over the howl of the wind. My whole body shuddered as his cool fingertips stroked the side of my neck, slipping under the collar of my coat. "You will know everything. Later possibly—with a price. Just remember… you're the last piece of the puzzle, little temptress."

"Don't even _think_ about it."

I turned my head towards the owner of the harsh commanding voice who was standing a few steps away from us over the deck, his presence an echo in the force, his body-warmth surrounded the air of the ship, pure from his anger alone.

"…Jei?"

How did he get here? How did he know? Did Killua tell him?

Hisoka straightened away from me. His glance shifted disinterestedly to Jei.

"Yuki, go get Nostrad's treasure," Jei ordered. He didn't even glance at me as he said that; his gaze was hard on Hisoka. "Bring it here so we can go."

I heard the faint rumbling of a motorboat somewhere nearby. He had sailed up here.

When I tried to move, Hisoka glanced at me, and I stopped. Shit.

"Don't worry," Jei answered to my worries, still staring at Hisoka with narrow-eyed ferocity. His gaze was daring, menacing. "He won't do anything."

He sounded so sure, so confident in his own words. Something passed between the two of them, a brief warning, a fleeting message, something I couldn't define. I knew I could trust Jei. He could see into Hisoka's mind. He knew Hisoka's next step. But still, how could I trust Hisoka? What if he made a mad dash for the ship? How could I trust that he wouldn't try to hurt Jei while I was gone to get the treasure?

"Damn it, Yuki, I said go!" Jei yelled at me, making me wince. I'd never seen him so furious. He was livid, outraged. "I'm your boss. If you don't move right now, I will make sure to get your ass fired. Do what I fucking said!"

Automatically, my feet moved until I was running, jumping over the dead bodies to get inside the ship and into the laser room that Cash had courteously left open for me. I wrapped the chest containing the heart in its velvet blanket, and carried it under my arm. When I got back over the deck, I saw that nothing happened after all. I didn't know what Jei had said to Hisoka that made him behave himself. He didn't even move one inch from his spot. A smirk was still plastered onto his face.

Jei knocked Cash's wine table on the hardwood floor, then he threw the lighter he pulled out of his pocket over the at the heap of dead bodies and it lit up like a thousand fireworks. The flames licked up the flammable liquid until it drew a line between us and Hisoka and destroyed any evidence of any crime that ever happened.

Jei grabbed my wrist forcefully and led me to where he left the motorboat beside the ship. Before I jumped onto it, my eyes met with Hisoka's, who was still standing stock-still amidst the flames. His smile was that of a true magician who knew the trick and loved the audience's attempts to see through it and wasn't about to spill his secrets, ever.

_I could tell you. You will know everything. Later possibly—with a price. You're the last piece of the puzzle.  
_

I couldn't shake the feeling that he was on to something, and it made me twitchy not knowing what it was.

Once I finally jumped, Jei put the motorboat into high gear and it roared away from the burning ship.

"Here's what you're going to do now." He glanced at me as he navigated us through the lake's waters. He was suddenly all business when he said:

"This is best plan for you to follow: First of all, you are going to go back to the suite and you're going to tell Killua everything you heard from tonight. You're going to skip over all the parts concerning Illumi Zaoldyeck's scheming. You're going to withhold the existence of the Letter from Killua until he regains full control over his aura, any emotional triggers would result in him using his nen by accident and he wouldn't be so lucky. What he doesn't know cannot hurt him. Secondly, in two months, you will go with him to that masquerade party Zymiral is hosting. You are not going alone there; it's dangerous. And since the mafia finds the Zaoldyeck's name to be ball-shriveling, Killua's presence is required to lower the chances of you getting mistreated in any way. Lastly, you are not going to worry about Hisoka. Don't lose sight of your priorities, and he is not one of them for now. Understood?"

I sagged into my seat, trying to regain my bearings and feeling way too entranced to think for myself. "Okay."

* * *

After he informed me that Killua would be waiting for me in the reception room, Jei dropped me at the Grandview and took the job of delivering the treasure to the Nostrads.

Shattered by tonight's events and feeling too overwhelmed by the sheer wealth of information that was dumped on me in one go, I walked inside the hotel in a daze. My movements were slow, my eyes so unfocused, I barely acknowledged the doorman when he greeted me. I knew the knowledge of what had been said to me all night would eat a hole in my mind, and I didn't know how to combat that trouble. Right then, I didn't want to think of anything. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I just wanted Killua.

I marched into the hotel's lobby and saw him as I neared the reception area, my steps quickening. He was sitting on one of the tables and talking to somebody on his phone. He looked edgy and pensive, his fingers drumming restlessly on the armrest of his chair.

Queasiness spread through my stomach when I saw how worried he looked. I stopped halfway to his table, my hand clutching hard at my coat under my arm. Tangled emotions kept me from walking any further. Guilt, fury, insecurity, sadness; each weighing me down in their own way. How was I going to tell him about tonight? My secrets were piling up so quickly. I was torn between his right to know the truth and my desperate need to keep his past and his family as far away from him as I could.

Where would I begin to tell him anyway?

With how Cash thought I could somehow easily scare a well-renowned mob boss off his empire? Or with how I now had no help finding answers to the list of confusing questions that could possibly determine the rest of my life? Or maybe with how his eldest brother was trying to pull a Cain on him by plotting a secretive conspiracy against me?

It was killing me. I hated keeping secrets from him. I hate keeping secrets, period. But this time it was absolutely necessary for so many reasons.

My shoulders slumped in defeat. Every step I took toward him felt so weighty, my feet practically dragged me across the floor.

I didn't know what I was supposed to do anymore. I felt alone, that ghostly feeling you get as if someone just walked through you.

Killua froze suddenly, his eyes narrowing, and I knew he could _feel_ me approaching without really seeing me. There was a tingling awareness we both experienced only when the other was nearby. Something akin to pure instinct.

He glanced up, caught my gaze, then straightened abruptly, surging to his feet. The scowl on his face fled. He muttered a hurried goodbye to the person he was talking to, then pulled the phone from his ear and dropped it on the table as he rounded it. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

He caught me as I rushed into his arms, needing him. My free arm circled his back. Relief flooded me in a rush as he pulled me close and held me tight.

"I had to go there—" I began hollowly.

"I know."

"I didn't mean to mess around behind your back. I wasn't being a reckless ass." My heels had gained me just enough height to press my face into his neck. He felt so strong and solid. I wanted to hang on to him and never let go. "I'm sorry I made you worried. Are you okay?"

"I am now." His hand rubbed my back while the other moved through my hair to untie my messy ponytail so he could soothe me with his fingers on my scalp.

"Cash is dead—"

"Jei told me. I know."

"Hisoka was there the whole time… creeping around…"

His fingers stilled on my hair for a minute. "I heard," he gritted out. I couldn't see his face, but I heard his teeth grind in irritation. His voice remained low and coaxing nonetheless. "We'll deal with it later." He was doing the best thing for me right now, which was to not make me think too much by talking about it.

"I need a shower." Cold sweat clung to my skin, I could still smell him—_Hisoka_—on me, along with Cash's blood.

"Let's get you home," he murmured, pulling back. He brushed the hair back from my face and bent closer to whisper in my ear. "I'll make you some tea and then we can talk if you want, okay?"

"Okay." I loved him in that moment. Wildly. And the moment after that when he held my coat for me and walked us to the elevator, keeping his arm around me and pushing my head so it rested on his shoulder.

Some of the dark clouds from tonight floated away.

* * *

Killua made tea for me after my shower and sat me down on one of the L-shaped couches while he sat before me on the coffee table. I told him about Zymiral and how he was the hiring party in my family's assassination. I told him that Cash wanted to make a deal with me—if I helped him rise up in the underworld, he'd give me juicy info. about my life. The only way for me to help him was by showing my face to Zymiral Jr. who was currently running the syndicate. Zymiral Jr. was hiding something up his sleeve for me, something that could turn my life upside down, and I would know it if I forced the powerful mob boss to face me. I avoided mentioning the involvement of his family until further notice.

Killua exhaled when I was finished. "We'll go together to that masquerade party. Here." He placed a band-aid neatly over the cut in my palm that was caused by Hisoka's card, then ripped another one for the other cut.

I watched him, silently, as he gave me his sole, sharpened attention, demonstrating yet again that my comfort for him was as important as his own. He could take such good care of me, from making me tea, throwing a fleece blanket over my shoulders, to making sure my irrelevant cuts were covered. He was a naturally kind person. He didn't deserve to be used or manipulated, intentionally or otherwise.

Without looking at me, Killua observed, "You're getting the kiss-me look on your face."

"Sorry."

His lips curled further on one side. "Not complaining."

I drifted my thoughts somewhere else. "Why would Hisoka stalk me?"

Killua's brow arched, lifting his gaze to my face. "You're getting the kiss-me look while thinking about Hisoka? Do I have to find him and kick his ass now?"

"No. Ugh. Jeez." I shuddered with a laugh. "I brought him up to distract us from the sentimentality and because I really want to know."

"Hisoka _stalked_ you?"

I saw Gon walking out of his room, his face scrunched up in a mixture of anger and confusion. "Oh, yeah. I went to the marina to pick up a package for Neon and Hisoka sort of came out of nowhere like a jack-in-the-bean-box and killed everyone out there," I said as Gon sat on the arm of my couch. "I think he was already there in the ship before it sailed." Which meant he had heard everything Cash and I talked about. He knew more than he should.

Gon frowned at Killua. "What's up with that?"

Killua shrugged. "Classic Hisoka."

I looked between the two of them. "So he's always been like that?"

"A high-functioning loose cannon? Yes," Killua said dryly. "He randomly pops in our path like a bump on the road, and it usually takes forever to understand his true intentions. Now that you're with us, I think he's getting interested. He probably just wanted to test you. See you in action."

"He's also a little flakey," Gon told me. "We should be careful. It's not a good omen when you suddenly find Hisoka in the picture."

Killua nodded at Gon, and I swear, some sort of creepy telepathy passed through their gazes.

I poked insistently at their knees. "What? What? Tell me."

"There are three reasons as to why Hisoka is suddenly interested in you," Gon answered. "One, he's trying to get a rise out of us so Killua or I pick a fight with him. Two, as Killua implied, he's got some time on his hands and he's done this for his own entertainment. Nothing else. And three…" He looked at Killua to finish.

"He's aiming for something big and mood swingingly. Regardless of Hisoka's purpose, it all goes down to his blatant need to win some thrill out of the situation. You should also consider that he also has…a certain fascination with Gon." Killua wiggled his eyebrows at me until I got the memo.

I snapped my head to look at Gon, a wide grin breaking out across my face. "Oh my god. He's _gay_ for you?"

Gon's eyes nearly bulged out but before he opened his mouth to reply, Killua beat him to it. "He's not gay for him per se. He's only interested in the strong. If people are strong enough or unique enough they will give him a hard-on regardless of who they are."

"Killua!" Gon scolded. "You can't say words like that to a lady."

"I don't see any ladies here, Gon."

"Har har har, you're so witty, Killua," I said in a mock sycophantic voice.

"Thank you, Yuki, you know I live to please you."

"I was being sarcastic," I informed him.

"And I was ignoring it," he replied, glibly.

Gon ruffled my hair. "Are you okay? On a scale of 1 to 10, how much did Hisoka creep you out?"

"A five, maybe," I said, recalling how I found Hisoka to be…freakishly fascinating, despite his rapey-creepy aura.

Gon hugged me to his side with his arm around my shoulders. "Don't worry, I won't let him near you again. As long as you're with me, Hisoka can find other entertainments. If he stalks you again, I will shave his head with his playing cards."

I grimaced. "Terrible visual, but badass."

"No expense spared to save my lovely friend from creepers."

I leaned my temple against his broad chest. "Nothing says 'You're a dear friend' more than quality protection against deadly magicians."

"Aw, don't you two look cozy," Killua commented with forced sweetness, crossing his arms at us.

A huge smirk spread across Gon's face. "Don't be jealous, Killua. You need to learn how to share. Yuki is mine as much as she's yours."

Killua raised his eyebrows in a way that meant he was amused…I think. "Is that so?"

"Yes. When you locked yourself in your room, Yuki and I had so much fun together. We cooked, ate fondue, played scrabble. She even gave me a haircut."

"Which looks very sexy on you," I pointed out, and Gon winked.

Killua smirked. "And I was wondering why your head looked so under-dressed."

Gon glared. "Stick and stones, Killua. Stick and stones."

I laughed.

Gon waved his hand. "Suck it up, Killua. Yuki and I get along very well. We've never, ever disagreed on anything. Not once."

"No, wait, actually we have," I said, and Gon looked at me, confused. Looking at Killua, I explained, "We had this little quarrel on which one of us wanted to punch you more. We eventually called it a tie and baked cookies."

Gon hollowed with laughter beside me.

"How amusing." Killua smile was wide—then he abruptly shot us a dirty look. "I'm going to bed."

"Oh, c'mon." I laughed harder when he actually stood up and made a beeline to his bedroom. "It's legit! If you were us, Killua, you'd totally fantasize about punching you."

"Yeah. I mean, have you _met_ you?" Gon teased as we followed Killua down the bedrooms hallway.

Killua waved us off from over his shoulder. "I'm not gonna stay here and be insulted."

"Deal with it, Killua. Yuki and I are buddies. She's a great bro," Gon said and we did some ridiculous complicated handshake before we resumed walking. "Seriously, Yuki. I like you more than the many loud girls Killua has brought here."

I immediately stopped walking to gape at him. "Come again?"

Gon just smirked at me. "Gotcha."

Shaking his head, Killua held my hand and pulled me towards his bedroom, muttering, "I can't believe you fell for that."

My eyes narrowed at Gon as I walked away. "You're not just an innocent pretty face, are you?"

Gon grinned. "Good night, Yuki."

* * *

It was a little after six o'clock in the morning when I woke up. I brushed my teeth, took my daily mood-stabilizer pill, and slipped back into Killua's bed. I shut my thoughts off for now. The world could go crazy by itself for one morning. Tonight was soon enough to everything I had to deal with. Right now, I just wanted to chill out.

Propping on one elbow, I absentmindedly traced the scars on Killua's bare chest with my fingertip and savored the rare chance of watching him sleep. He always got up before me no matter how early that was. Killua had once said that throughout the years, his body grew so accustomed to the lack of sleep he couldn't shut his eye longer than three hours a day, as if his body rejected the rest or something.

I brushed the silvery strands of hair that had fallen over his eye, noting how much his hair had changed since the last terrible haircut. Now it was longer and growing past the sides of his neck. He was unguarded when he slept, reminding me of how young he really was. That was easy to forget when he was awake and hiding himself behind steely gazes and salacious smirks.

I'd also noted that he'd grown leaner. The poison was taking a toll on him, but he'd hidden it so well. I found new tiny lines around his eyes and mouth. Although the poison was slowly sucking at his energy, it was hardly noticeable. He looked flawless and inviolate. It was yet another reason to why I decided against telling him about Illumi's blackmailing. It was best to tell him when the poison wore off and he regained the full control over his nen. If he knew now, he'd try to do something drastic about it. I trusted Killua with my life, but I didn't trust him with his.

The way he'd reacted when Cash tried to strike Gon was proof enough that Killua wouldn't hesitate one second to do anything for the people he cared about when their life was threatened, even if it meant compromising his own life in the process.

What if this was a test from Illumi? Did he want me to tell Killua or did he not? Did Illumi want to get Killua's attention, too, or did he want to keep it between him and me?

I didn't know.

"Stop staring at me, Yuki," Killua muttered suddenly, without opening his eyes.

I sank back against the headboard with a sigh. "No dice. Staring creepily at your face is my right as a girlfriend."

"I know I'm fantastically good-looking, but it's really annoying."

A small smirk forced its way into my lips as I teased, "You're not fantastically good-looking now."

"Well, I have two things to say to that. A, that means you find me fantastically good-looking at some other point of time and B, ouch, that's mean, Yuki. That really kicks when I'm down."

"I'm sorry, it's just—you look tired and dead. Dead-er than usual. Not in your usual deadpan way dead, but in a living-dead way dead."

At this, he cracked open one emerald eye, fixing it on me. "Don't call me that," he grumbled. His voice was slightly slurry with sleep. "You've made it clear that I don't look very appealing right now, but 'living-dead' conjures up the image of Romero zombies. Or vegetarian vampires."

"Well, silver lining: You're definitely not _that_ bad looking."

"Gee, Yuki, thanks." His eye closed again. "You're so sweet, I wonder why ants haven't eaten you yet."

"I'm sorry," I said, after a few moments of silence. "You're not at your most handsome, but you make that particular color of translucent more fetching than most people could."

"Shut up," he ordered, rolling over his stomach and laying his head on my belly. He nuzzled his face against my stomach where my shirt had ridden up slightly. "What are the plans for today?"

"Well," I said as I threw my arm behind my head, staring down at him, "I have to shower, dress up, scope my uncle's house out for clues about Zymiral, go to work, and get back home to my irritating roommate."

"Lucky girl. I heard he's unbelievably loveable." He _looked_ so unbelievably loveable with his hair everywhere and his sleep-flushed cheeks. I imagined waking up to this every morning, and the thought filled me with a kind of giddiness normally reserved for five year olds at Halloween nights.

I played along. "I heard he has an impeccable taste in girls."

"Hmm. He does." He ducked his head under the hem of my T-shirt, pulling it over his head so he was cocooned inside.

I laughed and said, "Killua, what are you doing?"

He shook his head, his nose digging into the flesh of my stomach. "I have no damn clue. But I really, really like it."

"Do you want to come with me to my uncle's house? I could use some moral support in case he was there."

"Okay."

We lied like that for about half an hour, drifting in and out of sleep. If Killua had had shame, he would have been embarrassed by the purr of pleasure he let out every time my fingers sank into his hair. He was like a housecat; moody with sheathed claws, exuding danger even in his rest, but secretly wanting to be spoiled and petted.

I lifted the hem of my shirt back up and stared down at him when a random question occurred to me. "Did you really play Russian Roulette when you were five?"

He smirked against my skin. "Nop."

"So you _have_ lost your virginity to a damned stripper.…And I've lost the game, too."

His expression wasn't visible to my eyes, but by the sound of his low, deep chuckling, I knew he was thoroughly enjoying himself. He needed someone to keep his ego in check, and I was always ready for that.

"So anyway, was the stripper a man or a woman?" I was biting the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning when Killua spun his head to the side and shot me a blank look. In retaliation, he dipped his head and bit lightly at my bellybutton, making me squeal, "What, it's a legitimate question!"

He flipped on to his side, opening his eyes fully as he tucked one hand under his cheek. I mimicked his position, but pushed my cold toes on top of his, and he recoiled, grunting as he jerked his foot away. "I don't know what her real name is, but she asked me to call her Cherry," he told me. "I was nearly sixteen and she was in her early twenties."

"What the hell. You were only fifteen?" I made a face. "Slut alert."

He grinned wide-eyed at the crude insult and chastised me for it by tapping at the end of my nose. But no matter how good my teasing was, he always bested me, because he said, "She brought her other stripper friend, too. It wasn't really the best I ever had or anything, but as a threesome goes, it was fun."

I growled and kicked him in the shin as hard as I could.

"Ow! I'm kidding, hey! Fuck—cut it out." He reached under the covers to stop my relentless foot and lifted my leg to splay it across his hip. "Jeez, you little beast," he groaned, rubbing my thigh. "Your kicks are like small mosquito bites; unnoticed but seriously annoying. And what now, you're allowed to tease me and I'm not?" He arched that errant eyebrow and his lips twitched with the smile he was containing.

"You should know better than to tease me with this stuff! You know how mental I get. Isn't the whole receptionist fiasco proof enough?"

His smirk widened at the memory.

"Shut up, Killua. I still get sick with jealousy every time I see her."

"Why? Why would you think of her as a threat?" His tone changed, grew softer and calmer. Curious almost. It was disconcerting.

"Because!" I surged up angrily into a sitting position. "I'll tell you, but that will be between us as _friends_, okay? For the next sixty seconds, you're not my boyfriend. We're just two bros talking. So, for starters, she's so damn gorgeous—"

"You're more gorgeous," he said softly.

My stomach fluttered, but I continued. "And, uhh, she touches you like you're hers—"

"I wish you would touch me like I'm yours."

That stopped me short. He was not smiling and he did not appear to be teasing me anymore, which only triggered my blush. "You can't say that! You're totally playing on my sympathies as your girlfriend! We're supposed to be just buddies now!"

"Wha—" He blinked. "It's not my fault you can't push aside being my girlfriend to focus on how you would open up to me as my friend."

I saw he'd got a point, which made me scowl. "Can you just…" My eyes rolled. "Just… Okay?"

He laughed through his nose and pulled my hand to his mouth for a kiss. "I'm so sorry. I won't interrupt again. Continue."

I counted on his fingers. "So she's gorgeous, she touches you as if she owns you, _and_ she's got legs and boobs!" I told him unhappily.

"Whoa!" He looked panicked for a second. "She's got legs? _And_ boobs? No freaking way!"

"Shut up! It's not funny! She's really hot and it's obvious how much she wants you, and you liked her once and—damn it, you can't like her anymore, okay? You like me. And that's it." I crossed my arms to mark the end of my tantrum.

Killua grinned and looked down at the sheets, hiding his face from me. Only when I saw his shoulders vibrate did I realize he was laughing. At me.

"Shut up!" I whined for the third time. "You should be happy I'm getting all stupid and possessive."

"I am. I absolutely am." He chuckled one last time and slid his legs off the edge of the bed so he was sitting next to me. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. The motion made him look like a little boy, but he was wearing nothing but black boxers and his longish bangs were falling around his face, which made him look deliciously like a young man. "Alright, I guess we've established that we both suck at dealing with jealousy."

My face fell into my hands. _And secrets. And insecurity. And emotions in general_. "We're so high-maintenance we keep making an ass out of ourselves."

"At least we'll never be boring." He nudged his knee against mine. "But let's talk about something more important."

I looked at him, hoping he wouldn't suddenly start talking about Cash, Hisoka, or Zymiral. It was a little too early in the morning for heavy discussion, but nonetheless, being near him had put me in a good mood, so I agreed, "Go ahead."

"When do I get to make out with you again?"

I laughed. "What, you want to schedule _that_?"

"Well, why not, since we have crazy lives and it doesn't seem to be happening spontaneously."

"You're going to give me a complex that all you want is the smooching," I joked, bumping his shoulder.

He rolled his eyes. "Please. You should have a complex if I _wasn't_ obsessed with wanting that with you. Especially after the way you kissed me yesterday's morning." He closed his eyes, tipping his head back with a breathy groan. "Holy motherfuck, that was hot."

"Watch out. If you keep on with these sweet words, I'm going to be smugger than you soon. And I really don't want to be you."

"Ouch," he said with a hand over his heart. "You're a cold, cold woman. I just need to find a way to get you hot." The leer was evident in his voice.

Laughing, I stood and tightened the knots of my silky bathrobe. "I cannot have this conversation at 7:30 in the morning. Besides, if I didn't know better, I'd think you're a kissing-virgin from the way you make it sound so special."

"Psh," he scoffed and stood, too, reminding me just of how tall he was. Perhaps that was how he got himself involved with older females, why they found him to be such a knock-out. It was easy to get fooled by his looming height, ridiculously ripped body for a boy his age and much worldlier eyes that had seen more than any normal teenager should be subjected to. "I have barely kissed these girls. You really don't understand the essence of casual sex, do you?"

"You bone up on your fabulous skills, shake hands and be done with it?"

"Pretty much. Kissing is too much involvement." He took a towel out of the linen closet and tossed it over his shoulder. As he ran the water in the shower, he added, "I mean, do I really need to teach you what sex is like for a guy?"

I leaned my shoulder against the doorframe of his bathroom and threw my hands up in surrender. "Oh no, thanks—"

"Because I _totally_ will." He made his way over to me and gestured with his head at the shower in silent invitation. "I teach best by demonstration." Tugging at the belt of my robe, he loosened it, spreading open the halves to grip my hips in his hands. "Are you interested?"

I looked down at his dexterous hands with calculated indifference. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

He shot me a cocky grin. "Please. If I wanted to seduce you, you wouldn't have noticed until it was too late."

"Is that right?" I narrowed my eyes at him momentarily, but I could tell he meant the shower invitation as a joke, that he expected me to huff or swat at him. He just wanted to get a reaction out me, one that would entertain his male bravado.

Egotistical bastard.

But because I lived to wipe that smug smirk off his face, I decided to surprise him this time. He wanted a reaction, he was going to get one. This time, I was going to give Killua a taste of his own medicine. I was going to knock the cocky male down a notch or two.

I pretended to think about it before I shrugged and said, "Okay."

Killua's smirk died out immediately as he froze, his chest ceasing for a moment. "What did you just say?"

"I said okay. I'm game." I pushed him aside to step inside the bathroom, then I shrugged out of my robe. "C'mon, big boy. Make me enjoy it."

"I—Make you—_WHAT?_" He watched me with huge eyes. "You… You do realize what you're saying, don't you?"

"Yep."

"And you're not saying it with a half mind?"

"Nop. I _want_ you to teach me. C'mon!" I gestured with my hand for him to come over. "Bring that fine ass in here and let's do it."

His expression changed so starkly from blatant amusement into horrified confusion. "You don't… You don't mean that. There's no way."

"Oh, I do." I started stripping. Shamelessly. My tank top came off first, followed by my pajama pants, giving him a full display to my lace bra and underwear. I resisted the instinctive urge to cover myself under his piercing gaze. There was this vulnerability that came along with my insecurity, but I'd be dishonest if I didn't admit that it was wildly exciting to totally get back at him for all that time he'd mercilessly teased me. To have the upper hand for once. Be the evil one.

"How about now?" I gave him the bitch brow. "Do I look like I don't mean it? Are you going to back up your invitation or are you going to stand there and watch me shower all by myself? _Because I totally will_," I said, using his own words against him.

Killua started panicking. His eyes flew to my chest, not even pretending he wasn't ogling. It took a moment before he realized that he was staring, and he quickly averted his nervous gaze to my face. "You're bluffing," he said decidedly, stepping away from me as if I might bite. "You don't want this. You're playing me."

"Am I?" I blinked innocently, taking a threatening step towards him. "C'mon, Killua. I'm not a museum," I provoked, "there's no 'look but don't touch' rule. Don't you want me there with you in the shower? Don't you wanna enjoy our naked, wet, _writhing_ bodies beneath the steamy water? Have me wrapped around you? Run soapy hands _all_ over me?"

He blinked rapidly; his Adam's apple bobbing in an audible swallow, the tempo of his breathing changing. He took another step back. His hands clenched by his side, as if he was physically restraining himself from reaching for me. "You're torturing me. Stop."

"Why should I?" I took a step forward for every one of his backward. "You've been teasing me all week with all the implied dirty jokes and truths, taunting me with the promise of your many talents. Here I am—" I spread my arms wide. "Offering myself to you. What, Killua? You scared now?"

His teeth gritted. "No."

"Are you the bluff type of guy? Promise a girl one thing and then renege? You know that's not very nice."

"…Damn it, no. But…"

"I mean, you did want me to touch you like you're mine, no?"

He raked a hand through his hair. "Yeah, but…"

"Then why are you running away?" I pressed evilly. "Now you don't want me? Hot and slippery and ready for you?"

A flush came to his cheekbones and his lips parted on a sharp breath, his precious self-control slipped away. There seemed to be a war raging in his head. Hot waves of steam surrounded the en-suite bathroom from the running shower, causing sweat to mist his temple. His back hit the doorframe. "Yuki…" he warned.

"Because I do want you. Hell knows I do." I seductively traced my lower lip with my tongue. "Right now and right here. So come on, show me how adventurous you truly are. Show me how deserving you are of your reputation as the rascal playboy."

The closer I got, the more tense he looked. His spine straightened, his neck arching as he stared down at me approaching him. He stood there, utterly still except for the heavy lift and fall of his chest.

"Don't…"

Once my body was almost flush against his, I went for the kill. '"Haven't you always referred to yourself as 'Death'?" I glanced up at him through my lashes. "I'd bet all these conquests you've been with have met your French relative… On multiple occasions. You know his name… _La petite mort_?" A low growl rumbled in his throat when I ran my nose oh-so slowly along the underside of his now damp jaw. "I heard he makes for rather great company. Don't you want me to meet him, too? I'd bet _you_ would enjoy introducing us to each other—"

"Stop," Killua snapped. "You win, okay? You win, goddamn it. You're right, I can't do this. I was just messing with you. I give up." He gripped the edge of the sink with white-knuckled force and repeated more hoarsely, "Just stop…"

Silence stretched as we stared at each other for the longest minute, before I allowed my expression to fall into a blank one. I rolled my eyes, finally stepping away, and Killua's chest expanded on a deep exhale of relief.

Nearly giddy with triumph and a lovely surge of feminine power, I retrieved my robe from the floor and slipped it back on. "Let that be a prelude to you. I can be just as mean. You're setting the precedent now for how I'll handle your teasing in the future. I'm taking my cues from you." I patted his chest, noting his slight shudder. "Seriously, never tease a girl if you can't take the consequences."

With that, I passed by him, and with a smirk he couldn't see, exited the bathroom.

* * *

After a long drive through winding roads with tall trees around us on all sides, Killua and I were standing in front an imposing set of monogrammed, wrought gates. Leaning sideways, I punched a code into the security box. The gates opened down the middle, and a sprawling estate was out before us. I pulled the bike up a hill that was the driveway to Gary's European-style mansion.

As I smoothly parked at the end of a row of cars and turned the engine off, Killua removed his helmet, taking in his surroundings. "You grew up here?" he asked. He didn't sound surprised, just curious.

"This was originally my parents' secret mansion," I replied as I dismounted the bike, "but they hardly ever lived here since they had to protect their shady identity and appear to the world as a normal middle-class family. I lived here for four years. Left when I was ten. I was kind of a nomad until I turned thirteen, then lived the last two years in anonymity."

Killua got off the backseat. "Anonymity," he repeated, leaning back against the bike's leather seat with his hands shoved in his pockets. "So _that_'s what turned you into such a cold-blooded cynic who tortures harmless boys in bathrooms, huh?"

"Ha!" I laughed. "There's nothing about you that's harmless. A bear attack is harmless, thin ice is harmless, climbing Orajnamilik is harmless…and the list goes on. Pretty sure Killua Zaoldyeck is not on that list."

A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips. "You love danger," he told me. "What would you have done if I had actually played along with your little risky game back then? If I hadn't fallen for it?"

"I'd have…" _Panicked. Freaked out. Lost my damned mind_. Instead, I shrugged and said, "Nah, you wouldn't have. I _knew_ you'd fall for it. Besides…" I grabbed him by the front of his T-shirt, pulling him off the bike into a walk. "A girl can only take so much before she cracks. And you owed me."

"I owed you?" Killua asked in confusion.

"Yes, you owed me." I held his hand, which was deep still inside his pocket, as we walked down the wide green fields that led to the mansion. "I think that I've been an exceptionally cool girlfriend under the extraordinary circumstances of this month, don't ya think?"

His brow arched. "And how's that?"

"Well…nearly four weeks ago, I'd woken up to find out that my brand new boyfriend had snuck out at midnight—"

"I didn't sneak out," Killua bit out, "I just left. There's a difference."

"—and he refused to tell me why he snuck out, what he was doing, or _where_ he was—"

"I didn't tell you because you didn't need to know then. We've talked about this."

"—any girl with insane neurosis like me would have made horrific assumptions, but because I trusted him, I let it slide."

His eyes rolled.

"Then he told me that he had to travel across the country and leave _me_, his brand new girlfriend, for _days_—"

"I also told you come with me."

"—only to come back to me later as a poisoned grumpy-pants with an attitude problem—"

"Attitude problem?" Killua scoffed. "My bestfriend almost got poisoned to death because of my fuck-ups and I'd realized that I had to leave you for a fool's errand. What did you expect?"

"—then he proceeded to nurse his mood by ignoring me for _more_ days," I continued, unaffected, "and when I finally got the privilege to talk to him, I saw him laughing with the promiscuous hotel's receptionist—"

"You saw her laughing to herself. You saw _me_ not causing a scene in a roomful of people."

"I confronted him and he smacked it in my face that he and her were occasionally dating—"

"It wasn't dating."

"Ooh, I'm sorry. Does 'occasionally _shagging_' sound better to you?" I snorted. "You think you're gonna get out of this on a technicality?"

"It's not technicality, it's detail—honest clarification of important detail."

"Oh? Well then." I jumped in his way, walking backward as I went on, "I'd like to see what you'd do if I cut you off for days, then you came over my place and saw one of my exes rubbing on me and clearly looking like he was hoping to spread me across his bedsheets?"

Killua's jaw clenched. "Neither of us wants to see what I'd do."

"Sooo…" I put my hands in the pockets of my leather jacket and walked normally again. "Guess you just got lawyered, buddy."

His lips twitched with a suppressed smile as he looked at me slyly with the corner of his eye. "You're lucky I like you, beastie," he said, and I looked at him questionably. "I've never allowed a girl to play me and get away with it. You should be happy I'm not hatching some diabolical revenge plan."

"Why did you allow me then?" I challenged. "Why couldn't you finish what you started back there in the bathroom? You could do it with other girls, but not with me."

"That's because I wasn't madly attracted to them," he replied with a shrug.

His blunt words struck me hard like a physical blow to the guts, and I stopped dead in my tracks. "You're madly attracted to me?"

Killua stopped too, and cocked his head slightly as he regarded my oblivious expression for a moment. Then his face softened. "Oh, Yuki," he said, sighing his smile. "You're an idiot."

I followed him when he resumed walking. "Excuse me?"

"You are. You're an absolute moron."

"You can't walk away!" I cried, struggling to keep track with him. "Our conversation isn't over—"

"Looks like we've arrived," he said, loud and deliberately. I looked up to see that we finally reached the entrance of the sprawling mansion. The hardworking staff greeted us in a receiving line—the gardener, the butler, Lucca the housekeeper, and two chauffeurs. Questions about my well-being were asked with the sympathetic head-tilt. After all, most of the memories they held of me were of how much of a troubled, tantruming child I was. I couldn't blame them, so I answered with the 'I'm doing pretty well' head-bob.

When the door opened into the mansion's marbled entry foyer, I immediately heard a high-pitched yapping followed by scrambling claws on the wooden floor. Then a furry ball with legs exploded into view at the end of the hallway. She bound toward us in a blur of long, tan fur and pink tongue, and when she reached me, she jumped up at my knees, whimpering and begging to be picked up.

I scooped the excited puppy into my arms, holding her away from me as she squirmed, desperately trying to lick my face. "Jeez, Puffy, freakin' cool it. We have guests."

The tiny dog yapped, and although I was scowling, I couldn't help being smitten.

"Puffy, this is Killua. He's going to stay with us for breakfast, okay? So behave yourself."

Killua reached out to pet her, but I stopped his hand mid-air.

"Careful. She can get quite sappy with strangers. Especially men." I slowly pulled his hand over to the little dog's nose, and her demeanor suddenly changed. She watched him suspiciously with black eyes as she sniffed his hand, and then her lips pulled back in a snarl as she emitted a tiny growl. If it were any other dog, it might be frightening, but coming from her, it was pretty much adorable.

I held her away at arm's length and glared. "Puffy, no. Stop being such a bitch." I put her on the floor as she eyed Killua with such disdain before turning on her heel and trotting away. I frowned. "I don't know what's up with her. She used to be very friendly."

"It's me," Killua said, indifferently. "Animals kind of hate me."

"Why do they hate you?"

His smile was knowing. "I don't know, I have a quality. It's probably because of their strong sense of self-preservation. They had always been afraid of me because I smelled like blood all the time."

"But you don't smell like blood now."

"No, but as I said, I have a quality."

"What's a quality?"

He sighed at my prodding. "A quality that doesn't make me very welcoming to animals. This is just an assumption, I said I don't know. I haven't been around animals so much except for my dog. Maybe he hated me, too, and tolerated me because I'm stronger."

I scowled, though it did make sense. There was a bristly, prickly, hands-off aura that always hung about Killua, radiating menacingly past his skin. It automatically sent a message to people to stay away, and he carried it with him with little to no effort. I found it easier to ignore it in time, pretend it was unnoticed, but it was still _there_. Animals sensed it, knew they were around a skilled predator, one they had no chance of besting.

We went further inside the mansion. The grand interior matched the extravagant exterior with its prewar architecture and old-world furniture. The elegance of the many rooms exuded affluence, but the overall vibe of the mansion was warm and relaxed. I noticed that Killua was eying his surroundings superstitiously. After all, this was the house of two mafia spies. He probably assumed there would be gun barrels cleverly hidden in the chandeliers.

Which was true.

"It can't be bigger than your house," I joked.

Killua's reply came quick. "I don't have a house."

The conviction in his words made me look at him, searching the side of his face. Did he say that to confirm to me that he was no longer attached to his family? Or did he say it to convince himself first?

"Is your uncle also a billionaire?"

"Technically, he isn't." When he looked at me, I explained, "Everyone in the Kudos came from money and married into more of money. My mother and my aunts were all debutantes. When my mother got pregnant with my brother, she wasn't married. When she refused to get rid of the baby, her family disowned her. My father also went through a lot of trouble with his parents himself, since he was my mother's adopted cousin. Eventually, they eloped and found a…quick-and-dirty way to recoup the money they gave up on…" I interrupted myself with a frown, looking at Killua. "Wait, why am I still talking? You probably know all of that, don't you?"

His lips twisted wryly in an apologetic smile. "Only the story behind your parents' job. I knew they were richer than they looked, but nobody mentioned a mansion."

"Right. Ah, well…" _Yikes_. _This is weird_. The boy I was dating knew all about my parents' life before me, probably knew even more than I did when he was just a little kid.

"Long story short," I continued, "my uncle was the only one who kept in touch with them despite their 'disgrace'. He went against the family by doing so, which was why my parents opened their mansion for him. Only if he didn't tell anybody about _how_ they could afford having such a mansion and as long as he kept their connection with the mafia a secret."_  
_

"So everyone in the family is wealthy," Killua concluded, "or independently wealthy."

I told him the rest of the story as we went up the stairs towards the rooms.

"Because I was too young to sign the inheritance paperwork, my uncle, wanting to protect the big fortune from getting claimed by Zymiral and his syndicate, signed on my behalf. So, until I'm legal, everything my parents ever owned belonged solely to my uncle. However, the blood money remained untouched throughout my entire messy childhood, until I turned twelve. The hunter's license could have allowed me to claim the money back, but I decided I wanted nothing to do with it.

"That made Gary furious. He accused me of 'shitting' on everything my parents ever worked for, and then of course, blamed my master's influence for my decision. It took a two-hours long screaming match for us to reach an agreement. Instead of sitting on the money and pretending it didn't exist, Gary took it, and in records time, doubled it by putting it into a business he enjoyed doing."

As we reached the top of the stairs, I glanced at Killua and found him staring at me with an unreadable expression.

"Why does your uncle hate your master so much?" he asked, trying to mask his curiosity but failing.

"I've asked them both the same question, but none of them ever provided much of an answer, so I can't be sure. I only know that they've known each other when they were teenagers, and the friction grew up with and between them ever since. Gary can't stand hunters and he hates my master's idea of me becoming one."

I could feel Killua's gaze hard on my face as he asked, "So you chose you master. He's that important to you."

"I've never chosen anybody," I said, shaking my head while we walked down the hallway that led to Gary's study. "I've never picked a side, and I hope I never have to, 'cause I will always choose my master's side over anything else."

Killua dropped the subject.

We reached the door of Gary's study, which was actually my father's. I had to punch another security code to let us inside the spacious room. Every surface in the office was laced with electricity. The code was necessary to disable the electric protection. Without inserting a code, the intruder would get electrocuted. Of course, that wasn't an issue for Killua, but it was for me.

The oak parquet floors were covered in an Oriental rug that had hypnotic patterns of gold and red. Two large chairs sat in each corner and a cherry wooden desk near the back with another chair behind it. What attracted the eye the most was the floor to ceiling bookshelves that wrapped themselves on one wall. They were all filled with books, files, and ladders. Every information stacked in here was worth a damn.

Killua carefully checked the desk while I busied myself with filing through the bookshelves. The biggest aim was to find out why Zymiral was obviously willing to spend a small fortune to put my parents—_his own employees_—in the ground. A resourceful mafia boss, who could finish them off himself, but chose to hire professional assassins for it. Something was indeed very fishy.

We found nothing that could lead us to the truth, only general information and some mafia dirt.

Zymiral Junior took over his father's business after his death a couple years ago. He was twenty-eight, an eligible bachelor, with a security force that included armed bodyguards and a top of the line security system. No biggy. Killua and I could handle that.

Zymiral dealt with everything from racketeering, illegal exports to sex trafficking through his mafia connections But his most illicit business involved drug trafficking, most notably K-Con19, which was a rare, extremely dangerous drug that could only be found by a hunter. That I already knew by fishing into my parents' job.

"Can you push me around?" I was standing on the twelfth step on the ladder, very high up. Killua came over to push me to the left. "Here, catch those." I dropped some files towards the floor and he easily caught them in his hand. Stacking more files in under my arm, I climbed back down.

"Zymiral's often on the move," I said, "no one knows when he's in his estate and when he's traveling elsewhere. He's a master at throwing agencies off his trail and hiding his whereabouts."

"So the masquerade party is our chance to get him," Killua finished. "Once we've gained access to the party and the grounds, we are to wait for an opportunity when Zymiral is available, get him alone, take what we want from him, and disappear into thin air." He made a 'poof' gesture with his hand.

"As fascinating as I find your manwhore-ish strategy, it's not as simple as it sounds," I sighed, rifling through the files. "He has guards with him everywhere he goes, let's not forget the crowd that will be around him. We have to be smooth and discreet." I paused, then an idea popped in my head. "I've read in Cash's files that Zymiral Jr. has got a reputation as a ladies' man, a player through and through. I could take advantage of that. Set myself up as a vixen."

Another pause, before Killua stroked my cheek sweetly with a soft smile. "And I'll be planning your funeral." He walked back to the desk. "And his while I'm at it."

I rolled my eyes. "Do you have a better plan?"

"Yes," he said, glaring at me as if I told him I wanted to strangle an infant. "I will get rid of the guards and bring the party boy to you by his hair. Bam."

"You do that, Killua, and risk drawing attention to us and ruining a mafia party. _Bam_."

His gaze narrowed angrily. "I'm not allowing you to pimp yourself out right before my damn eyes. You know damn well how crazy that will make me. You don't remember my warning in the hospital or do I have to say it again?"

"I'm not going to pimp myself out! I can't believe you just said that. He is not going to touch me," I explained, "I'm just going to make him _think_ he will in order to pull him away. Didn't you say pretending is sometimes necessary to get a job done? You've done the same thing tons of times."

"That was before I was yours!"

I froze, slightly taken aback. I kind of loved how he said that, even if he was kind of murderously glaring at me. "But…but…this might be a necessary mean to get Zymiral alone in a private room."

"Oh, so the end justifies the means? Alright, then, beastie. You can't be mad if I _take_ you with me while I make myself available to one of my promiscuous business conquests and let them meet my 'relative' again right in front of you, because hey, it's necessary to get a job done." He forced a smirk. "Who knows, maybe I'll arrange several meetings in one night."

In a burst of anger, I picked up the heaviest book from the shelf and threw it at him. It landed right in the middle of his chest, but it hardly rattled him. Killua looked down at his T-shirt nonchalantly and then back at me.

I glared and bitched, "Would you like another bathroom round?"

"Oh, don't threaten me with your feminine wilds," he said, flipping me off. "And since when do you wear lace underwear, anyway?"

For a second, my body stiffened. "Uhh…" Shit. I couldn't get my mouth to work an answer.

Killua grinned, wide and delighted. "Oh wow, beastie. You're wearing lace for me?"

"No." I squinted at his arrogance. "Of course not. Don't flatter yourself. I always wear lace."

"No, you don't. I've known you for nearly seventy days now. Not once have you worn lace."

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How do you know that?"

"So it is true. You wear lace just in case." Mischief danced in his bright green eyes as his grin widened. "You've been wearing sexy lingerie just in case I accidentally see it. You want to look pretty for me."

I snorted. "Please."

"I'm so flattered right now."

"You talk almost as big as your ego."

"You deflect almost as bad as a bounced ball."

"Um, Yuki-sama," Lucca's voice stopped us both cold. She stood awkwardly by the study's door and looked in concern over the mess we'd created. "Do you need anything?"

Lucca had a gentle and caring demeanor, very maternal. She was a cocoa-skinned, middle-aged widow with two grown sons. One just graduated from college, thanks to Gary, who paid for his entire schooling. Her other son was a pilot, Gary's pilot, actually. She had been working for my uncle for ten years, and she was one of the very few friends I'd had. She was the one who always dealt with my bipolar frenzy, and she was like a mother to Gary. A part of me always wondered how friendly they were, how much she knew about him.

"No, thank you, Lu. We're fine. By the way, this is my friend, Killua."

Killua managed a smile.

I could have sworn something twitched in Lucca's eyes right then, but whatever that was, it was soon gone before I could recognize it. Her expression remained kind. "Welcome, Killua-san. Would you two like to drink something?" she offered.

"Yes, please. He'd have tea. Black." I leered at Killua. "Like his heart," I muttered, which earned me a hard glance.

Lucca frowned at the seemingly unearned insult, then asked, "I could prepare some breakfast, too. What would you like? Pancakes? Eggs?"

"Yes, I'll have eggs," Killua said, flashing me a winsome smile. "Two, over hard. Like her head."

"I'll have eggs, as well. Two, scrambled." My head jerked away from the Lucca toward Killua, and I cut him off. "Don't say it, Killua."

But any further nastiness was cut off by Lucca announcing breakfast was ready. We ate until we were full in the dining room, with a growling Puffy trying to intimidate Killua from a corner. When we were done, we packed up the files we needed, and had to leave sooner than expected after I got a call from Kurapika cancelling my shift for today due to the blizzard that was barreling towards York Shin. It seemed like we were staying in for tonight.

* * *

Once we rode the elevator up to the suite, I leaned forward and buried my nose in Killua's shoulder blade, looking up at him through my lashes. He glanced briskly down at me, then continued to stare straight ahead. When I kept looking unblinkingly at him for twenty floors long, he groaned exasperatedly, saying, "What do you want?"

"I shouldn't have suggested the flirting thing with Zymiral. It was insensitive of me, and I'm sorry," I mumbled into his shirt. "Please don't start PMSing."

He acted as if he didn't hear me, calmly closing his eyes. I attempted to make a puppy dog face. I wasn't really one of those cutesy girls so it probably looked closer to one of those big-eyed hairless breeds, but it seemed to work. Killua sighed exaggeratedly. "I'm not mad… but that was kind of rude of you."

"I know," I groaned.

"Not to mention inconsiderate," he added, assuming a haughty tone.

"I know."

"I mean, I've been trying real hard not to make a simple eye contact with the receptionist of my hotel because I didn't want to make you feel bad and you thought it was okay to throw yourself at a perverted man with me standing in the same room even after I warned you that jealousy makes me look bad."

He was literally repeating everything I'd been beating myself with in the past hour. Granted, he was teasing, because his eyes were still closed and the corner of his mouth keeps twitching in effort to not smile, but _still_.

"I know," I repeated, mournfully. "I said I'm sorry. Can I have my cool girlfriend card back?"

"Yes, I'll give it back to you…" He opened one eye to stare down at me. "If you beg me to."

"Killua," I complained.

"Killua…what?"

My teeth gritted. "Killua, please."

"Please…what?"

I couldn't stop the frustrated noise that escaped me. "Please…don't be an ass."

"An ass that has _your_ cool girlfriend card. Quit stalling and beg me, Yuki. Your window of opportunity is slowly closing."

"In that case, let's get it over with," I said, resisting the urge to bite hard on his shoulder. Adopting the most disinterested tone I could muster, I said, "Killua. Please give me my cool girlfriend card back."

"I'm considering it." His smirk gave him away, but I played along. "I need to be fully informed first. Does this deal come with any special privileges? Particularly those of the kissing variety?"

I laughed as we stepped out of the elevator. "Sure. Why not. You get unlimited kissing sessions."

He grinned. "Really?"

I smirked and amended my statement. "You get unlimited _cheek_ kissing sessions."

"Tch," he scoffed. "Not good enough. Guess you're not getting your cool card back."

"Guess not."

Killua swapped his keycard in the door's slot and we entered the suite to find Gon drowning in a mess of papers.

"Hey, guys," he said, smiling. "It's good you made it before the storm hit. The news lady just said that time for evacuation is over and everyone should now go inside and be prepared."

The weather outside was already changing. It was only three in the afternoon and the sun was no longer there, replaced by gloomy clouds and sounds of wispy raindrops drumming softly on the windows. According to the news, the wrap-around blizzard would be a severe thunderstorm threat, with hail and damaging winds, including possible tornadoes.

"What the hell, Gon?" Killua exclaimed as he noticed Cash's manila envelope on the coffee table before Gon. "You opened the envelope without me?"

"But… but…" Gon spluttered guiltily. "You were late."

"So what." Killua snatched the stack of papers out of Gon's hands. "We were supposed to check it out together."

"I'm sorry, but it's not my fault. The envelope crawled into my lap on its own and begged me to open it."

Killua snorted, straightening the papers and flipping them over.

I dropped myself on the couch and watched the exchange in amusement. For Gon and Killua, checking an envelope of a mafia boss had the equivalent of watching their favorite show and the secrecy of finishing an awesome video game. The feeling they got when receiving a new data about Gon's father was like opening a big present on Christmas morning.

"Don't worry. You didn't miss much," Gon said with a sigh. "The info. was supposed to lead us to my father but his name isn't even written in any of these papers. There's only one name written there, Dred…"

"…Vyzotsky," Killua finished.

"Yeah, I suppose he knows my father pretty well."

Anxiety pooled in the pit of my stomach. _Dred Vyzotsky_. That name was also in the papers I'd received from Cash myself. That name was supposed to lead me to what I needed to know. Apparently, it would also lead the boys to what they needed to find. How much of a coincidence was it that we all had one thing mutual to search for?

"Let me see that." I stood to look into the papers in Killua's hand. My eyes spotted the one grainy picture first. It was of a tall man, who stood in front of an open window with his face averted from the camera. The picture was seemingly taken without his permission. The bad color quality of it made it hard to distinguish him so well, but it was obvious that his hair was dark, tied up in a long, thin ponytail. He was wearing a pressed black coat and he didn't look old, mid-thirties maybe. Above the picture was written _Dred Vyzotsky, ten years ago_.

Suddenly I realized that Killua had gone very still and silent after reading the name, his brows pinching together in silent thought. His dilated gaze remained fixed on the papers in his hand. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

"What's wrong?" I asked him.

Gon sat straighter. "Do you know this man, Killua?"

"Yes." Killua's voice was grim. "He was the Zaoldyeck's arch enemy."

Thick silence greeted Killua's words.

"Really?" Gon looked awed.

"Yes," Killua continued, lowering into the couch, as if the force of this realization had physically knocked him down. "He always worked in the dark, just like us. And we're the only people who know his story. My family always avoided to talk about him…as if his name was a disease; the mere mentioning of it could bring it to one's doorstep."

Then it occurred to me. Pepper had once mentioned something during our Zaoldyeck gossiping sessions. He had mentioned someone with similar description.

_"One man. A nameless man who lived in shadows. His reputation was only known in the underworld as the first hunter to ever get the Zaoldyecks' attention. He drove them up the wall for almost a decade. He was a legend. Preternaturally phenomenal. Rumors say he frustrated them to no end. He was the red rag to their bull. The nails to their chalkboard…"_

Gon leaned forward, clearly more interested now. "What do you know about him? Do you know what happened to him? Do you know how we can find him?"

"We can never find him."

"Why not?"

Killua rubbed his temple as he answered, "Because one, if it's hard to find your father, it's ten times harder to find Dred. My family tried to get a hold of him for years to no avail. And two…" He sighed. "Dred Vyzotsky is dead."

* * *

The room was illuminated for a brief moment, then, a few seconds later, a clap of thunder followed; roaring with the heavy rain pounding everywhere. The sound of wind blowing, shaking trees and other objects suddenly came, diminishing the sound of the rain. In between all that was Killua's voice as he told us the story of Dred Vyzotsky's death. The storm created the perfect atmosphere as we all huddled around the coffee table and listened to what would apparently be a horror story.

Killua took a sip of his tea, then began, "Assassins and the blacklist hunters are two sides of the same coin. Although one is a crime maker and the other is a crime fighter, they're very much alike. Both go after specific targets, both get incredibly rewarded for their missions, and both are egocentric and motivated by high-profile motives, reasons that vary from financial gain to fame to revenge. Assassins kill criminals. They are the necessary evil.

"Dred Vyzotsky wasn't like any blacklist hunter. He was ruthless, crafty, and he didn't believe in redemption for criminals. He never worked for any organization, because he didn't like to put criminals in prison. He executed them immediately, on the spot. It was either his justice, or nothing at all. For almost a decade, he managed to ruin most of the Zaoldyeck's assassination missions."

My eyes widened.

"He stopped them?" Gon asked, seemingly having the same dumbfounded reaction I had.

"No, he finished them himself," Killua said, baffling us even further. "Before we'd arrive to the mission's scene, the target would be already dead, with a sign that said Dred was behind this. It was a taunting move. He didn't care about money, didn't care about fame, only about annoying us. He was obviously trying to send a message that only we could see."

I drank my tea as I waited for the next thunder to growl down on us, then asked, "And how did he die?"

"You could call it suicide, that was the best way to describe it."

Gon's hand stopped mid-sip. "Why?"

"It was an incident that the family preferred to sweep under the carpet. I don't know the whole story but…" Killua's chin lifted and his gaze narrowed thoughtfully. "A couple years ago, Dred Vyzotsky intruded the Zaoldyeck's estate when the sun was setting. He managed to open the seven gates, kill over seventy of the butlers who opposed him, and when Mike was ordered by the family to attack, Dred severely wounded him, too."

I didn't know how great that must have been, but when I saw how speechless Gon looked, I was sure it was pretty damn huge.

"He was an unstoppable force," Killua went on, "It was one chaotic sunset. I don't know what Dred wanted, what suddenly made him reveal himself to us, or why he was so determined to reach the mansion. All I know is that it'd gotten so bad and messy, Great Grandpa Maha had to interfere."

_Great Grandpa Maha. Maha Zaoldyeck._

There was a thread that linked Maha Zaoldyeck, Dred, Gon's father and the assassination of my family all in one companionable pretzel. They all connected like pieces of a puzzle, and it wouldn't be so long before the picture became clearer.

"Did you see his face?" Gon asked. "Dred's face. Do you know how he looked like?"

Killua shook his head. "No, I was on an 'emergency mission' that particular night. I didn't get the privilege," he added, reclining back on his seat with one arm behind his head. "It always sort of annoyed me that I was the only one in the family who didn't witness what happened. I heard it was an amazing battle."

"Why Maha Zaoldyeck?" I got up to sit next to Killua on the sofa, sliding one bent leg in between us so that I faced him directly. "Why was Maha Zaoldyeck needed to finish Dred off? Surely Dred could be killed by your father and your grandfather and your brother, since it wasn't an even match to begin with. But for reason, he was killed by Maha. Either he was strong enough to beat up more than two legendary assassins combined, or that Maha wanted to face him alone."

Killua blinked at my rather vehement deduction and curiosity. "You're right. He wanted to be the one to fight him."

I slumped, my thoughts spinning. "But why? Why him?"

Thunder struck again. It was like a symphony, a vile-sounding one. It was as if the sky rained just for the sake of this story, as if it was planned out like a drama, the sky acting upon the truth just to make it even more dramatic.

"It's a family thing. You will know the answer to that…" Killua leaned over towards Gon and I with a smirk that promised very sinister things to come. "First, you need to learn the epic story of how Maha Zaoldyeck established the dynamic of our family."

* * *

**A/N:** So there you have it. A full-blown _dredful_ twist added to the plot. Do we like Dred so far? Any theories?

**Rec:** Everyone should go read Hunter Sentences by _Blossomwitch_. It's an amazing one-shot about Gon and Killua's bond. I recommend it even if you're not a fan of implied GonxKil, you'll still enjoy the way the author grasped the canon's characters so perfectly. If you do ship GonxKil, Hunter Sentences is going to be a feels trip to you.

Next chapter, we pick up the pace again with Maha's story. Now since I work faster during school days I might post another chapter by the end of this month, if you guys want me to. It's already written and I can edit it quickly if the reviews want me to. Tell me what you think.

Make sure to follow me or stay updated with me on my tumblr, I might post teasers of the next chapter in there. The link is in my profile.


	43. Killua Zaoldyeck

A/N:'Sup guys! I said I'd post by the end of the month and here I am. Reviewers, tumblrers, lurkers, you keep this going and make me want to update right away. This is an emotionally-packed chapter (hence the title). Feels-inducing chapters like this one are my favorite but they're also kinda hard for me to write, so I hope you're prepared to shed some feels.

Note: This story was planned way before the recent chapters of the manga, so y'all know there is no Alluka/Nanika that grants miracles, which means that I can't afford to say that Gon went through his DBZ mode and almost killed himself in his meeting with Pitou. In this story, he was stopped before he could do that. Also, Zeno is Maha's grandson, not his son. Maha's son was never mentioned in the Canon. Only in this story.

* * *

**_44. Killua Zaoldyeck_**

* * *

"Maha Zaoldyeck is my great great grandpa, but we all were raised to call him Great Grandpa."

The snow storm was just rolling in when Killua started the tale.

"According to the story, Great Grandpa Maha stepped off of the boat in Padokia nearly one century ago. He was ten and all alone but he made it. I don't know how he got on that ship without the proper papers or documentation required during that time and no one cared enough to ask about the whole tale but I knew he was doing illegal things all of his life. Stowing away on a boat was nothing for him."

His voice grew colder as he continued. "The second he stepped foot at South Padokia, it was a blood bath. He had no money, no family, no last name, and no clue what he was doing, but he was smart. He lived the streets for about five years and got whatever he wanted just by giving his 'scary glare', which he had mastered before he was five. No one else could pull it off quite like him but once you get the look, you know you're in for a world of hurt."

The wind was howling, a gale force that tossed leaves against the windows around us, rain drumming restlessly against them in a steady rhythm. It made me shiver and gave the perfect effect to Killua's next words.

"One day, when he was sixteen, Maha was caught stealing from the most ruthless street boss in South Padokia, Killua Zaoldyeck, who I just happened to be named after."

That shocked me into complete stillness. I shared a silent _WTF?_ look with Gon, who's face reflected the same wary confusion I was feeling.

Killua, one the other, was unaffected, as he continued, "Killua Sr., as he was called, threatened to cut off Maha's hand, as per mob rules but like I said, Maha was smart.

"So they made a deal. A deal that started it all.

"Maha would work for Killua Sr., learning throughout the years and going through brutal training to become somebody in the city. Killua needed someone to be his right hand, someone to rule the streets of Padokia for him and Maha was the perfect solution. Little did Killua know, he just made the worst decision of his life.

"By the time Great Grandpa was eighteen; Maha had become Maha Zaoldyeck and he had taken over after Killua Sr. died in a mysterious 'tragic accident'. That was the start of the Maha Zaoldyeck reign and the beginning of our family's lucrative business."

"How did Killua Sr. die?" I asked warily.

"Nobody knows, and nobody is allowed to ask. But I guess it's obvious," Killua answered simply with a shrug. "And so after Maha conquered South Padokia, he packed up, moving to the north where he set up a land from there. That land was the place I thrived in and it was the place where all the Zaoldyecks were born and learned everything they knew.

"Long story short, he married and had a son called Zepp. When Maha grew too old to run anything, he chose someone who could lead and someone who would do the family proud. When Zepp turned eighteen, the line went for him, since it was a tradition for the heir to take over at the age of eighteen. Nearly three decades later, Zepp took a decision that changed everything and jeopardized our entire family."

"What decision?"

Killua leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees and steepling his fingers together. "He decided to protect the family name. When the opportunity arose, Zepp brutally slaughtered the entire relatives of Killua Zaoldyeck Sr., which inevitably ended the line of the original Zaoldyecks. Women, children, even newborn babies, they all died in the massacre."

The last words were said without inflection, which made the hairs on my nape stand on end. I shivered with a sudden chill that came from inside me.

"A couple years later, when it was time for Grandpa Zeno to rule the family, he exiled Zepp."

Gon gaped. "His own father?"

"Yes. Grandpa Zeno was against Zepp's decision to wipe out the original Zaoldyecks, but he was too young to object or do anything about it at that time. He has strong opinions about injuring innocents when it can be avoided, and he doesn't believe in killing when unnecessary or when you're not on a hired mission. Besides, he believed that Zepp's decision would bring unwarranted trouble to our family, which was true. And so, he banished Zepp from our estate."

"He could easily do that?"

"Yes. In our family, you're not allowed to oppose the leader's decisions. Once the heir officially takes over, his orders must be respected at all costs. Also, you're not allowed to kill a family member, but you are free to disown them. Grandpa Zeno knew of the consequences of his father's doing, and just as he'd expected, they terribly affected our business for almost a decade."

"And what was the 'unwarranted trouble' that Zepp's decision had brought?" I prodded.

"Dred Vyzotsky."

I shuddered. "You mean…"

Killua nodded. "Yeah. The original Zaoldyeck family wasn't entirely wiped out. Zepp had miscalculated. Two survivors have escaped, and one of them was Dred Vyzotsky."

There was silence, then Gon asked, "Who's the other survivor?"

"Dred's younger brother, Dex. Nobody ever heard of him, though. We never heard of Zepp either. Rumors said they both died." Killua shrugged indifferently as he sipped his tea. "Who knows."

"So…" I said. "That's why Maha faced Dred alone? Because Dred was related to Killua Sr.?"

"Yes. It was personal between them," Killua replied. "You could say that each one of the Zaoldyeck heirs has taken a big decision that greatly affected the whole family. Good, bad, not irrelevant. What matters is that they all had one purpose in mind, which is to protect and keep the family's bloodline. It's all they cared about."

I slumped back in my seat, trying to process everything I was hearing.

After a minute's pause, Killua put down his tea cup and added, "They all had big hopes for me. They said I'd grow up to be more like Great Grandpa Maha. Menacing. Violent. Deceitful." He smiled dismissively. "Guess I was the biggest disappointment of all."

A shiver went through me. I was not so sure it's because of the cold this time.

Was that why Killua was named after Killua Sr.? What was the meaning of this name thing?

Dred Vyzotsky stripped bare of his original name, and chose to be a lone wolf with a vengeance. Friendless, faceless, free. A man who dedicated every part of himself to the destruction of the Zaoldyeck's missions. What had changed? What had happened to him all of a sudden that made him walk into his own death when he decided to pick up a fight with the Zaoldyecks smack in the middle of their lands? The enemies he was hiding his face from all these years?

And what was the special bond he had with Gon's well-renowned hunter father who I knew nothing about?

_One more thing… One last important thing__…_  


If Maha's big decision was to deceive his master to start his own family, Zepp's decision was to slaughter the helpless original Zaoldyecks to claim complete possession of the name, Zeno's decision was to punish his own father…

Then what was the decision that Killua's _father_ had taken?

And…

…what about the decision that _Killua_ would eventually take?

* * *

I couldn't sleep that night. Finding the darkest corner in the living room, I sat numbly on the sectional sofa, trying to be invisible. It was so cold in here. The storm hadn't stopped all night. Lightning flash without thunder. The rain got quieter. Snow was yet to cover up the windows.

I hugged my knees to my chest. My head pillowed back against the cushions as I watched the ceiling and sank further and further into my pathetic abyss of self-pity.

I was so tired.

Tired of the things I didn't know. Tired of the things I knew and couldn't tell.

I was also so angry. One emotion bloomed hot and fast in my chest—_hate_. I hated Illumi Zaoldyeck. I hated what he was doing, even though I didn't know what that thing was. I hated the reasons he had to do it, even if I didn't know them. I hated him, period.

I felt like he was a giant dark raincloud with me all the time. I couldn't ignore it. I couldn't pretend it was not there.

I felt like a ghost. I was only truly alive when I was around Killua and could hide from the reality of the world.

Then the ghostly lonely feeling would come back once I remembered Cash's words. _The Heir was a clever way they used to bring you on their chessboard, and force you to fight under their rules._

_Used_. Illumi wanted to get through me, and he was using Killua as a weapon. All this time, I thought it was the other way around, but turned out it wasn't. I didn't know which way was worse, but I knew it irritated me to think of Killua being used in any way. Feeling used or manipulated was a trigger for him.

Bottom line was: In some ways, _I_ had brought Illumi's raincloud back in Killua's life, and I was the one who had to deal with it. Illumi wanted _me_, and in the end, it would be the two of us against each other.

What if I was truly ruining Killua's life by merely being near him? Would it be better for his sake if I disappeared? Would that keep Illumi a safe distance away, assuming he'd follow after me if I left?

Would it be better if Killua had never met me?

Would he be free from Illumi's dark raincloud if I wasn't standing next to him?

My eyes prickled. I closed them shut and pressed my forehead to my knees.

_It's hard when people think you're a burden. But when _you_ think you're a burden… that you can't bear up against._

_And to be a burden to the people you love…it was the worst feeling._

Suddenly, I heard footsteps, and a moment later, Gon emerged out of the bedrooms hallway. He stopped in his tracks as he noticed me, smiling. "Hey. I'm here to get some water. What's your excuse?"

"Pity-partying."

"Ohh." He fetched himself a glass of water and made his way over to sit next to me. "Can I join?"

I laughed at that. "You're the most optimistic and self-possessed person I know. You're way higher than pity-parties."

Amusement curved Gon's lips. "I've had my fair share of pity-parties over the years. I was a legendary pity-partier before I sobered up."

I returned his smile. "And what helped you do that?"

He shrugged. "Mistakes. Friends. Mistakes help you learn and friends help you put things in perspective. If it weren't for Killua, I'd probably be dead by now, or worse, paralyzed in some bed."

I frowned. "Why?"

"A while ago, I was grieving a friend. I had this obsessive drive for revenge that had actually been a cry for help, but Killua didn't miss all the warning signs. He couldn't afford having me obsessed." He paused for a moment, smiling to himself, before he spoke once more. "He told me one thing that I can never forget. 'A sharp mind and a strong body are useless when you've got a sick heart. Ignoring it for too long could be dangerous.'"

I raised my eyebrows as I contemplated that. Those words were so hauntingly true.

Gon patted my knee. "If something is eating at you, you have to let it out. We're your friends. I know it helped me."

I looked down at my hands in my lap, and before I lost the courage, I asked, "Do you think I'm good for him?"

Gon stared at me in shock. "Of…of course you are. Why wouldn't you be?"

I sighed and leaned my head back on the sofa cushion. _How am I supposed to tell Killua's bestfriend that I'm thinking about leaving? What are you supposed to do when you can't tell anyone anything? Because whatever you say might ruin everything?_

Gon sensed my hesitation, and said, "Look, Killua and I have been bestfriends for years. He's my adviser, my sage, my hammer, and sometimes, well, my brains," he admitted the last one in a whisper, and I smiled. "He's pulled himself together throughout the years, but some cracks and fissures remained. And perhaps they will always be there. While to the others he appeared harder and more inviolate than he had been five years ago, I knew he's more fragile inside. I try to always keep him in the front lines. But I could never tell him that, because it annoys him when people see right through him."

I could see how that would make Killua feel a little bit insecure. "Because your belief in his strength was what bolstered his belief in himself. When you believed in him, he came through. He's afraid of what he'll become if you stop believing in him."

"He's afraid of what he'll become if _you_ stop _needing_ him."

I looked at him in confusion.

Gon squeezed my hand and his mouth twisted wryly. "When you came into his life, when _you_ of all people saw him uncensored and accepted him anyway, that gave him purpose. You make him feel _needed_. He likes that. It keeps him on track. Sometimes being needed is the greatest gift you can give to anybody. You're strong-willed, independent, and one of the strongest girls he's met. And so when someone like you makes him feel needed… it makes him feel important. It makes him want to work on always being the person you rely on. Being there for you no matter what."

I couldn't help the smile that seeped into my face. That was true to me. Everything I'd known, all that I believed in, was now rewritten by my need for him. And he'd always been there when I needed him. Always there to pick me up when I fell. I would always love him for that. Maybe I'd always love him, period.

And one day, that might not hurt so badly.

I wrapped my arms around Gon's bicep as I leaned my head on his shoulder. He made it sound so simple. "What would I do without you?"

Gon smiled. "You're never going to find out," he promised.

My hold tightened.

I went back to bed shortly after Gon did. On my way to my bedroom, I stopped, then turned around, walking to Killua's room instead.

I carefully opened the door and found him was asleep on his side. My heart flipped to see that even when I wasn't there, he still slept on the left side of the bed, with his arm outstretched to the right, where I would be.

Crawling quietly beneath the bed covers, I lifted his arm and lay down beneath it. He didn't open his eyes, but his arm wrapped around me and tucked my head protectively under his chin, as if on instinct. I tangled my legs tightly with his and closed my eyes, wondering if I'd be too stubborn and stay, even if it turned out that it would be best to let go.

* * *

_With an abrupt jerk, Killua yanked open the door of the suite and shut it behind him with his back. The cold receded abruptly, like a fever breaking, but in reverse. The heat was so acute he could feel it in his bones. CeeCee's words had never left him all the way back home, striking a chord in his tight heart. Repeatedly. Relentlessly._

_'You're a guy who's practically living for others. Do you even have anything to live for except this impeccable need to help Ging Freecs' son?'_

_His head bowed, his long silvery bangs covering his worn visage from view.  
_

_'Perhaps you're doing it to make yourself feel like you've accomplished something in your life with this forward momentum, when in reality, you're really not achieving anything.' _

_He pushed away from the door and walking to the living room, his arms dangling at his sides like the sleeves of an empty jacket. _

_'You can pretend you have somewhere to go, or that you have someone to go to. That someone somewhere in this shit city cares enough to want you around.'_

_He kicked the coffee table aside to clear his path. The urge to vomit rose in his throat, and he was so cold he was shivering._

_ 'You know that you're nothing but a sad bastard who's just making amends for whatever the wrongs he's done in the past.'_

_The bile in his mouth was incredibly bitter. He wanted these voices out of his head. He wanted to be alone. It was too much – too much noise, too many words, too many truths. _

___'You're emotionally unavailable, and so emotionally damaged that it's so easy to break you down.'_

_Killua flopped on the couch, his arm thrown across his face. He didn't want this, not anymore. He didn't want these feelings in him. He didn't want these girls who pretended to love him. He didn't want this parade of false care, these fools who laughed too loudly and agreed too strongly with everything he said. Thinking that this would make him like them, make them like him. They could have it; they could have it all._

_____He screwed his eyes shut tight and tried to think about anything else, anything at all._  


_____With his eyes still covered with his forearm, Killua spoke, "Why are you still awake?"  
_

_____"I was waiting for you," Gon replied from where he stood by the hallway's door, his height and big body nearly filling the doorway, but it was the way he stood that made Killua a little intimidated. Gon's arms were crossed in a disapproving manner, his eyes unblinking and his expression was stone-faced. _

_Killua groaned softly as he lifted his arm from his face and stood up, mentally preparing himself for the ass-chewing Gon was about to give him. Gon was his conscience, touchstone, his voice of reason, and a brother in every way that mattered. He would raze the earth to protect Gon. He would kill for Gon, give everything he owned for him. Everything, anything for him. _

_But to be frank, it sometimes annoyed Killua to hell how perceptive Gon was. He could read him so well, it was unnerving. Right now, he didn't want to deal with any scolding.  
_

_Gon studied Killua's face from across the living room. "I know what you've been doing."_

_Killua cocked his eyebrows in a challenging way that said, 'Oh yeah? How do you know?'_

_"Your shirt is backwards and I can smell a woman's perfume all over you."_

_Crap. Sometimes Killua forgot that Gon was not only a perceptive young man with great insight and mad emotional intelligence, but he was practically a dog, too. _

_Killua cringed inwardly. __He didn't need to hear a pep-talk from Gon. He especially didn't need to hear a _sex_ pep-talk from Gon. _

_Instead, he settled with sidestepping over the subject. "There's man in Los Selegna who is willing to dish out some dirt about your father. I got us a meeting with him. I say we go there after Leorio's engagement, unless something comes up until then."_

_"Okay."_

_"How do you feel about that?"_

_"Can't complain." Gon firmed his stance, his face determined, serious, and wise beyond its years. _

_"O-kay," Killua drawled. Ugh. When Gon was on to something, he wouldn't let it go even if the world was ending in a minute. Killua sidestepped again. "Let's go to bed. Tomorrow's a big day. Our friend is putting on a ring and stuff."  
_

_Gon thrust his arm across the hallway, blocking Killua's way. "I don't want to find Ging if it's on the expense of your mental health."  
_

_Killua stared at his bestfriend for a long moment. "I don't know what you're talking about." Yes, he did. "My mental health is as good as it's ever going to be." No, it wasn't._

_"You don't think I know when you're lying? When you're troubled or faking a smile?" Gon countered. His face was hard. "I can see what these mindless sexual escapades are doing to you. You can't do this anymore." _

_Killua pushed gently at Gon's arm as he passed him. "Leave me alone, Gon."_

_Gon didn't stop him this time, but he spoke louder, "Other guys can do it, but not you. You're not a player. You can never be a player, because it means something to you. That's why you get so messed up when you just give yourself up like this. It's __screwing with your self-esteem and leading to more problems than it fixes.__"_

_Killua smiled hollowly, but it was a smile nonetheless. He waved his dismissive hand at Gon from over his shoulder as he walked away. "Jeez, you're making me sound like such a woman."_

_"You're driving that road again," Gon warned. That made Killua stop. "You gave up on your family's occupation, why? To wind up doing another thing you hate? To feel used and objectified for someone else's personal gratification? To, yet again, feel like nothing but a body bound of emotions? Is that what you aim to do? I know that's how you feel right now."_

_There was silence. It was really, _really_ annoying how good Gon could read him. _

_Killua's smile turned bitter. "Maybe I'm wired to go for something that's terrible for me."_

_"Stop it. Don't say that." Gon's fists clenched beside him, his eyes filled with pain and anger. "I'm not going to watch you do this again, and __I don't want you to find information for me if the price means __giving parts of yourself away until you're nothing but an empty shell."  
_

_Killua watched as his bestfriend angrily strode inside his bedroom and slammed the door shut. He blinked, then a slow, soft smile of content curved his lips. CeeCee was wrong. She had it all so, so wrong. He didn't want to help Gon find Ging to make amends, expiate his sins, begin some healing process, or to become a contributing part of some world. He did it because it would make Gon happy, which would make him happy too. He did it because all his sins were remitted when Gon was fulfilled. He did it because his healing process already began with Gon's friendship. He did it because he felt he was a part of something great when he was a part of Gon's world. _

_In conclusion, Killua was doing it solely for himself. He was doing it for _his_ own sake. He was saving himself. He was honoring Alluka's memory by re-creating his past—_their_ past—the way he always wanted; by making his own choices.  
_

_And he would keep doing it, for both him and his friend. He would stay by Gon's side until it was the right time for him to be on his own. Because Gon's happiness meant his own. He would give up everything for that happiness. Everything, anything for Gon._

* * *

The last four days of October passed quickly. Neon was having her intense shopping sprees before her father arrived in the city at the end of the month to take her away. Killua had been busy all this week; all he did was work on finding clues about Gon's father, and in his very little free time, text me. All the while he'd been self-contained and unreachable, both physically and mentally. Moments where I could get his full attention had become so rare, since all I did was wake up, go to malls, and come back to an empty suite.

The night before Halloween, I woke up to darkness when the sheet was being lifted deftly off me and thrown aside. I'd crashed so hard when I came back, so there was no way I was waking up before morning. I was about to groan a protest when I recognized the uniquely boyish scent that always enthralled my senses; midnight and heat with a hint of musk.

Without a word, Killua slid over me, a moving shadow, the bare skin of his chest cool to the touch against my bed-warmed body. My legs parted instinctively so he could settle comfortably between them.

"Hey," I whispered as he laid the side of his head on my chest right between my breasts. "How was your night?"

"Tiresome," he mumbled sleepily, his voice hoarse with approaching slumber, his body growing heavier by the moment. "Missed you."

I smiled and ran my fingers through his silky hair, wishing I could see his face. A tingle of pleasure moved through me knowing he only came here to fall sleep. He was too exhausted to move or kiss or even talk, and he could have crashed in his room which was closer to the front door. The fact that he chose to come all the way to the room I slept in meant he'd just wanted to be near me, even while I was unconscious.

"Tell me about it tomorrow. Let's sleep now."

He hummed an intelligible 'good night' and I felt him relax, slipping away from me with a deep exhalation, his breathing slow and even.

I carefully threw the sheet back over us until it covered half of his back and closed my eyes.

When I woke to my alarm, he was gone.

* * *

It was Halloween afternoon when I stood on the roof of a building waiting for Neon's helicopter to take off. She'd went inside with Kurapika, a bunch of her permanent bodyguards and her female attendants, leaving Pepper and I alone on the roof.

"You're officially unemployed now." He elbowed me with a smirk.

"Yay," I groused, crossing my arms. I hated not having something to do, even if that something was monotonous as hell as this job. "Can't wait to do nothing tonight."

"Can you feel it?"

"The Halloween spirit? Totally." I snorted. Funnily enough, my month leading up to Halloween went on perfectly with the festive. I'd seen creepy clown-like men, been scared shitless on different occasions, listened to horror stories, and I'd had tricks and pranks played on me. Though instead of bats, I'd got eagles, and instead of having scary movie marathons all month, I'd practically lived through them. Only nobody offered me any free candy.

"No, I didn't mean the Halloween spirit," Pepper said, "I meant the evil spirit of the sniper who's trained on us."

"Ahh, that." I shrugged. "Yeah. I've felt it. His attention is unmistakable. I expected that one to fire twenty minutes ago."

"I don't know what he's waiting for. Neon is safe inside her bullet-proof helicopter. He'd missed his chance."

"Maybe he's aiming at you." I leered at him from the corner of my eye. "Got any vengeful ex-boyfriends out there that I don't know about?"

"You're mistaking me for someone who dates infamous and wanted ex-assassins," Pepper teased back.

"Very smart."

"How are we dealing with the sniper dude?"

"Hmm, dodge the bullet and then beat the crap out of him?"

Pepper nodded. "Sounds about right."

The next seconds seemed to take an eternity; the anticipation of that signal shot worried at my nerves, but our focus was total. _Wait for it_, I coaxed myself. The world seemed to slow and my senses intensified. I could hear my breathing and my heartbeat, finding my center and ready to act. The antsy felling _of being watched was_ creeping up stronger on me by the second, and the attention of the sniper was either coming from east or west.

Pepper and I were the only ones left on the roof. The helicopter was ready to go in the air. _Six…five…four_. My hand drifted to my holstered knife. _Three…two…one_. Any second now. I could almost hear the ticking of the trigger. The helicopter finally snapped, its rotor twitching into motion, jumping up in the sky.

**_BANG!_**

The sniper used the deafening noise of the helicopter's engine combined with the howl of the wind whipping through the open space to drown out the gunshot sound, but the it was as loud as thunder to our sensitive ears. I moved my hand fast. My knife was out in an instant, my vision shrinking into a pinpoint to track the bullet's direction that expectedly came from the east. There was a small _ping_ noise as the bullet was deflected with the blade.

Bingo.

I flipped the bullet up in the air with the edge of the blade, and caught it with my other hand.

Pepper came closer to me as I brought up the hot bullet to my face for further inspection. "Man, using a SIG Sauer combat rifle," he said with a whistle. "Nice choice. Our sniper is tactical, wealthy, and careful."

"And epically stupid." I sighed and flicked the bullet away with my thumb. "Everyone knows Neon is protected by hunters. What was he thinking sniping on us?"

"If you want, you go home and I'll take care of it," Pepper suggested. "Maybe he's a hot hunk and we'll hit it off."

"Nah, I want to do it," I said and put the knife back in my belt. "The job was boring, might as well wrap it up with something fun. Plus, I'm PMSing and kicking some ass would come in handy. So I shall." I stepped off the roof of the building. Once my feet hit the ground, I lifted my gaze to see Pepper peeking down at me.

"You're a workaholic!" he yelled out at me in the open space. "You're choosing to stalk one measly sniper over going home to a handsome man-candy of a Zaoldyeck? FRIENDSHIP OVER!"

I laughed as I ran away.

Determined not to let the sniper get away with this, I traced the bullet's direction to an abandoned bloke surrounded by under-construction buildings and narrowed the search down to three similar buildings. The sniper was hidden in one of them. I was about to play eeny, meeny, miny, moe before I noticed the SUV that was parked down in the shadows near one of the three buildings. Guess there was no need for any counting game.

I climbed the building to the roof and there he was. A lone wolf with a telescope in his hand, aiming it towards the building where Pepper and I were. He was nowhere near a hot hunk. He was a man with some meat on his bones, thick muscles, a little taller than me, but not much.

I crept soundlessly behind him and picked up the discarded rifle he'd used from the ground. It was a doubly beautiful weapon that could shoot fleas off a dog. A sweet thrill went up my spine as my body seemed to know it was in the presence of superior artillery and I felt like I was kissing. It was the same kind of high for me.

"I'll save you some trouble, good gentleman, I'm right here," I said blithely, and the man flinched, finally realizing he was not alone.

His hands slowly lowered the telescope and he turned around to face me. When he saw that it was _me_, the person he was scope-tracking, his eyes got all huge and he stepped back. "How did you get in here?"

"Through the magic of feet," I deadpanned, still studying the rifle.

The man frowned and snatched the weapon out of my hands. He had a look of triumph, not knowing that I just let him do it.

"Impatient, aren't you." I shrugged and wiggled my fingers in the air with flourish as if preparing to play a piano. "Alright now, let's chat, shall we?"

The man's wispy eyelids blinked a few times.

Then the idiot swung his arm.

My eyes widened. "Nu-uh. Nop. You don't want to do that," I warned, waving my finger. "Don't do it."

**_POW!_**

_He…He did it_. He smacked me in the jaw with the rifle's butt. My head was still snapped to the side due to the brutal force of the blow, yet I glared at him through my hair and from the corners of my eyes, allowing my cool composure to drop. A muscle ticced in my jaw. _…__Okay, now I'm pissed._

I kicked my leg up and the weapon went flying out of his hands, spinning in the air before landing on the roof's ground, effectively snapped in two. While the man watched his now broken rifle in surprise, I planted another kick in his belly that knocked him backwards against the roof's edge.

He snarled and lurched to his feet, attempting to tackle me into the side of the roof. I pinned him by the throat, keeping him at arm's length and sinking my spiked heel into his foot. He yelped, struggling to break free. I released him abruptly, letting him fall into his knee as blood gushed from his foot. Linking my hands, I hammered his back like a club, forcing him to fall headfirst into the ground. Pressing the advantage, I gripped the back of his collar and dragged his body across the roof.

I slammed him into the wall next to the roof's door, his face crashing heavily against the stacked bricks. "What's your name?"

"L-Leone." His accent was thick.

"What a cool name. Okay, Leone, now tell me. Who are you working for?"

"N-no one."

His groan of pain echoed off of the clear space when I rammed my knee into the back of his leg, causing a loud sound to ricochet around us. His leg cracked in the middle from the force, and broke completely.

I whirled him around until he faced me, keeping him upright despite his now broken leg and injured foot. "I'll ask you again, who are you working for?"

"No one," he croaked stubbornly.

The vein in my head threatened to pop. I took hold of two of his fingers and bent them sharply to the side with a faint _crack_. My brow arched when the man only gritted his teeth, a sign that he could cope with broken bones more than others.

"Come on, Leone, you can do better than 'no one,'" I said, then pressed my thumb into where the hand connected to the arm on the inside and twisted his wrist.

He let out a string of curse words and I could smell the salt from his tears as they left his eyes. Sweat slid down his temples. However, his lips pursed shut, as if he was deliberately restraining himself from revealing anything.

I rolled my eyes. Eventually I ran out of patience and reached my snapping point. Quite literally _snapping_ point. My hands grabbed both his shoulders and turned him over, bringing him to his knees again. He whimpered when his weight dropped on his broken leg, but I didn't flinch. I held each side of his head and used my fist to tug his hair back so he could look at me.

"You know what, Leone…" I said calmly as I placed one hand under his chin and jerked his jaw to the side, threatening to snap his neck. "I don't really need you. Your buddy's down by the building. I saw him in his SUV car. I could leave you here to your misery and go to him. He could be next. It's just another walk in the park for me, so your silence is doing no one any good. You could either save me some precious seconds or—"

"Okay, okay!" Leone sobbed. "The Rhymerinis. I work for the Rhymerinis."

My brow furrowed in confusion. "Cash's syndicate? Why are you after Neon Nostrad?" I asked, all pretenses gone from my voice.

"I'm n-not after her. The capo sent me to kill you."

"Why?"

"I don't know." I could tell it was hard to speak through clenched teeth and the hurried panting, but he gained the ability to shout when he heard the all too recognizable _crack_ of his neck which I _might_ have twisted just a little bit more. "I don't know! I swear! I don't question the capo's orders, I'm just a soldier! H-he found out that the boss was after you and that he was with you before he died, and he wanted to see if it'd be easy to kill you or not. That's all I know." The accent was making it hard to understand him and along with the heavy breathing, I knew I wasn't going to get much more out of my good friend Leone.

I let go of his head and lashed out with a roundhouse kick to his gut, causing him to lurch away to the other side of the roof. "Jeez. You give up too easily. If I was your boss, you would have already been dead for revealing that information. You couldn't even put up a fight."

"I'm new and I've been locked in here for days. I haven't eaten and someone comes in every hour to beat the hell out of me until I do what they want. I don't have any fight left in me!"

"Boo hoo."

"There's no winning with you, is there?" he snapped back at me, rolling over the ground with a rusty grunt.

I wiped some blood from my leg and dusted my black pants off, then sent a quick text message to Pepper, saying simply: _Everything's fine_, then slipped the phone back in my back pocket and looked around the roof. Choosing the left corner, I launched myself off the roof. After floating in the air for a couple seconds, I landed on the roof of the SUV with a thud hard enough to curve the black metal.

Crouching on my knee, I peered upside down into the windshield and met the eyes of the startled driver. I wiggled my fingers in a deadpan wave, then I hopped off the roof and ripped the car's door off its hinges, throwing it aside until the driver came into view. His hand froze on the phone on his ear and he blinked at me.

"Your friend on the roof needs your help," I informed him, motioning upwards with my finger. "He's not dead, but he's in a really bad shape. Better help him fast. Also, tell your good ol' capo that it wasn't me who killed his boss, and if he tries to pull another stunt like this one, I'll personally pay him a little visit and show him how you really annoy someone. Okay?"

The man swallowed, staring at me with incredulous eyes and a decidedly composed face. He nodded briskly.

I patted his shoulder and left him for my bike, muttering profanities under my breath like the grumpy old woman I was becoming. Now I was being slanderously hunted by the mafia for something I didn't do. Great. Just my luck and another layer to add onto the pile of mess I had to deal with. Happy fucking Halloween for me. And that still wasn't the cherry on top of the fantastic October-from-hell I was having. There were still ten hours left till the end of the month, and the finale had only yet to come.

* * *

After I arrived at the Grandview, I rushed into the lobby and headed straight for the elevator where I released myself from the confinement of my bra. I was slipping it from underneath my shirt while I fumbled with my pockets to find my keycard. Nothing. It wasn't on me. I had probably lost it somewhere along the crazy day. Cursing my luck again, I pounded at the door and waited. Again, nothing.

I waited five more minutes but there was no one in there. With a groan, I put my bra on again and headed downstairs. I paused in the middle of the reception room with my hands on my hips, trying to determined my next move. I was way too impatient to wait for the boys' return, and way too lazy to drive to my apartment.

As I weighed my options, my half-lidded gaze wandered the room, then narrowed when I zoomed in on the striking receptionist.

She stood behind her crescent-shaped desk, looking sophisticated and pretty in a sleeveless suit coat and silk tied scarf, welcoming the hotel's wealthy guests as they came and went. It was more than her deliberately messy curls of auburn hair framed her face, eye-catching red lipstick and nails, or the way she thrust her chest up to show off her wares that made men of all ages smitten with her. She was also admittedly friendly in an overly perky way. Who the hell needed to be nice with everyone all the time? It was annoying as hell.

I tried not to scowl when she was around, but it was pretty much impossible. There was just something about her that made me want to smash her face into the computer screen on the desk before her. Oh, yeah, that's right: she wanted to have Killua for a night. Not date, not love, but plain jump his bones. He must have been some lay for her to be so stark raving mad over it.

But approaching this from a different angle—the angle where _I _got to date, love, _and_ have him for all nights, I was half proud over the fact, half sort of annoyed, because he was _mine_, god damn it.

Still, I had no choice but to ask her to let me inside the suite. _The night keeps getting awesomer and awesomer._

I composed my face and approached her, then spoke quickly, my words flowing in a rush. "I need a new keycard to the penthouse suite, and I need it quick."

Darcie glanced briefly at me, her mouth tight, then back into her computer. Like I wasn't even there.

The vein in my head finally popped. "Hey," I whispered harshly, not wanting to draw attention to us or my perilously short fuse. I snapped my fingers in front of her face. "Did I stutter? I said I want a keycard to the suite."

She finally looked at me the way I wanted, and offered a smile. "I'm sorry. I'm not qualified to give anyone access to a guest's room."

_Oh, spare me this crap_. She had no shame giving Killua access to Cash's room for some good time in the sack but now she wanted to play Employee of the Year with me? Unfortunately, I had no mad skills in bed to bribe her with.

"You see me going and coming every single day," I said, frowning, "you know I practically live here. I suggest you don't cause drama and give me my keycard." _Before I give you a damned hydrolyzed-cheese-starch facial._

"Sorry. No can do," she replied, faking a neutral tone. "We protect the privacy of our guests in here. How could I be sure you're not an ambusher? Maybe you've lost your keycard privileges, assuming you had one. You could be a stalker of our guest or a deranged visitor who can't take a hint."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, not at all in the mood for this. I approached this from a different angle, attempting to hit where it hurt. "Except you know I'm not. I'm the guest's girlfriend."

"Oh, dear," she said. Her sympathetic smile rubbed me the wrong way. "You're only temporary."

Rage bloomed in my chest. "What?"

"Come on," she cajoled, leaning in to whisper. "We're both women; we get each other, and you're still too young and naïve to see what's right in front of you. You need someone more experienced to enlighten you. Do you really see a future with him?"

I maintained my cool even though the question was like a blow that had a perfect hit right where the most damage could be done. "That's none of your business."

"We've both been there. You know exactly what I'm talking about. He only likes you because you play hard to get, and he will still be interested in you as long as you're not throwing yourself at his feet. But you can't keep him for the long haul."

My knuckles whitened as I gripped the edge of the desk. I knew she was lashing out on me because she couldn't handle rejection. Not just any rejection, but a rejection from a guy who was younger than her. That must have been a massive shot to her ego. I knew she was taking it out on me, I knew she'd say anything to get to me, and I hated that it was working.

"He can't sit still for too long," Darcie went on, "he's always running around, always on the road. Looking for adventures. Challenges. This type can never commit. Why would he? He's young, good-looking, rich, and untouchable. He's the type of guys who does whatever's necessary to get what he wants. You have him now—"

"And you don't," I interrupted coldly.

Her gaze narrowed at me, but she continued, "And you know why? Because he's done with me. He treats a girl like a princess for a short while until he takes what he wants from her. And the minute he gets her beneath him, she goes into his discard pile. He instantly develops a vicious hate towards girls after he sleeps with them. He despises them, and will never respect them again. He's dark with too many issues to count. I say you run while you still can."

I glared at her, even though I was mad at myself for letting her affect me. I'd already been emotionally triggered, and she came like a nightmare, catching me at my most vulnerable and wrecking havoc and mayhem when my defenses were already weak.

I wanted to snark back at her, sass back and rage defensively against everything she was saying the way I should, the way I _had_ to, but I couldn't. My self-esteem, which was already like a tight-rope walker with a broken pole, was all over the floor now and that led to me standing there in front of her like a moron, feeling small and nauseous.

"Hey, you!" I heard Gon's ecstatic voice from behind me, startling me out of the compressing bubble of tension I was locked inside. He was walking over me with Jei close behind him.

"Hi," I said, then frowned at his slightly torn shirt. "What happened to your shirt? Are you okay?"

Gon looked down at himself and smiled sheepishly. "Uhh, yeah. Our meeting with Rick went out of hand at first, but it was overall great. Turns out it is true. Dred and my father were indeed friends. Killua suggested taking Jei with us just in case Rick decided to withhold anything back. And it was a great idea. We wouldn't have known how close Dred and my father were if it wasn't for Jei."

Jei shook his hand in the air, waving any possible thank-yous off.

"That's awesome, Gon." I managed a smile, but I was beyond caring about Dred or his damned story. I wanted to go home. I wanted to get out of here. I was too tired to pretend everything was okay.

"What are you doing standing here? Why are you not upstairs?" Gon turned to flash Darcie one of his good-guy million-dollar smiles. She returned it with a charmingly polite one, as if she wasn't just unsheathing her sharp claws on me two minutes ago.

"I lost my keycard," I mumbled, wanting to step over the subject before Gon could pick up on my awkward mood. Awkward seemed to be where I lived these days. Right there on the corner of Freak Out Avenue.

"Yuki?" Gon touched my shoulder, his concern-filled eyes soft on my face, studying me too intently for my liking. He clasped my hand and dragged me away from the reception desk towards a table. "You're white as a sheet. You should sit down."

I knew my stomach was cramping and my speeding pulse rate was way too high. "You're right," I muttered and dropped on the armrest of some chair.

"It's the jealous busty bitch at the desk," Jei grumbled annoyingly, then cupped my chin to tilt my face to his. He looked firmly at me. "Do not listen to her. It's her sexual frustration talking. Tell me you didn't believe her bullshit."

"Of course not," I said defensively.

Gon leaned down on one knee before me. "Then why do you look so sad?"

"I…just have a lot on my mind." I tugged my chin free from Jei's fingers as I backed up from the chair. "I'm okay. I am. I just need to do something real quick."

"…Okay." Gon began to say something else, but I'd already stalked away.

I was agitated. Angry. Bitter about things I couldn't change and too frightened to think about the things I could. I had to leave. Everything was aggravating me in this room. The talking noise. Darcie's giggle. The click-clacking of women's high-heels. I wasn't lying. I _had_ something I needed to do quick, which was fix my shit. Regain that mask of sanity and grow some backbone before I saw more people. I needed to become a fully functional and emotionally evolved individual or else I'd make a pathetic fool out of myself for the rest of the night.

I jogged towards the entrance and nearly stopped breathing when I ran smack-bang into the chest of someone so tall and still. The impact was like running into a brick wall, I almost fell back on my ass.

"Whoa," Killua chuckled and gripped my waist to steady me. "Careful, princess, you'll hurt someone if you run Cinderella-style."

_Princess. _

_'He treats a girl like a princess for a short while until he takes what he wants from her.'_

Killua's smile dropped quicker than a heartbeat, replaced by an anxious scowl when I subconsciously stepped out of his hold and stumbled backward a few steps away from his touch. "What's wrong?" he said in his stupid smooth voice.

_So many wrongs_. _A whole universe of wrongs_.

I should tell him all of them, but I couldn't.

"Uh, nothing." I straightened and offered a resemblance of stability to my voice. "I need to go to my apartment for a while. I'm not running," I added quickly when his scowl deepened. A nervous ramble broke free. "I, uh, I need to get some stuff from there. Clothes and some, uh, shoes and my toothbrush. I love that toothbrush. It's my favorite, and better on my sensitive gum and it fits perfectly in my hand. Yeah. I'll go get it. I'll be right back. I will."

He spun with me when I passed him. "Want me to come with you?"

"No!" If he took me home, he'd unstitch me, and I really couldn't fall apart now and puke out all my insecurities and neuroses in an ugly mess of rambling.

"Why not?"

"I just want to walk by myself. Is it a crime to want to have some time alone?"

A flicker of hurt crossed his face, just for an instant before it went away. "No, guess it's not."

"I just need some space. I won't be late," I said, walking backwards and then away. "I'll be back."

I didn't know which one of us I was trying to convince. I needed to pull away. Withdrawing to where I felt safer. Saner. For now.

* * *

I unlocked the door of my apartment with shaky hands. By the time I'd stomped inside, any desire to go back to the hotel had disintegrated, and all I wanted to do was soak in the tub for a few hours, eat my own weight in pizza, and curl in my bed until I felt nothing.

So I slammed the front door, stripped naked, and headed to the bathroom.

The wooziness that I had been feeling vanished once I immersed myself in the claw-foot tub of my bathroom. I turned off the faucet with my toe and listened to the soothing sound of lapping water and patter-pattering of the heavy rain on the bathroom's high window. Closing my eyes, I let my head sink beneath the water weakly, wetting the roots of my hair before resting on the textured floor of the tub.

My aching muscles softened in surrender. Looking down at my body, I could see a few shadows blooming beneath my skin. There were bruises, scratches, and some burns caused by my knife, all reminding me that I hadn't rested in nearly four years now. I never stopped working ever since I was eleven. I was in need of a vacation. It was time to settle physically still for a month. Or twelve. Leave the battles for my head for now.

By the time I got out of the tub, I dried myself off and was about to put underwear on when I heard my phone vibrate in the kitchen. I slipped into a silky bathrobe and rushed to check the text. It was Marcus.

_Are you single yet?_

Rolling my eyes, I typed, _You're being a dick-douche._

_No, I'm being a friend. At least you're in your apartment. Good enough sign._

I groaned._ I've made it pretty clear. Stop tracking my cell. Annoying as hell, Marcus._

Jeez. It was like his whole life depended on my relationship status.

Speaking of which, I quickly typed out a text for Killua._ Can't make it. Will see you tomorrow._

I paused, and thought about adding an _'I'm thinking of you'_ but decided against it. The aftertaste of Darcie's words was still too bitter, and I was still trying to shake it away. There was a tiny part of me hoped he'd feel bad about it. A bigger part of me hated that I was that petty.

I pressed 'send' but stopped short when I heard the ringtone of a text message. Coming from the hallway outside my apartment.

He was here?

I yanked the door open and there he was, phone in hand, shoulders slumped, leaning against the wall beside my door. He was drenched.

"Oh my god, what are you doing? You're soaked!"

Killua didn't glance at me. "I don't know why I'm here." I could barely hear him. His voice was rough and his knuckles of one hand were scraped and bloody. His posture, all bunched and defeated, set me on edge.

"Oh, god." I grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him inside. "Stay here," I ordered, and left him dripping on my rug as I headed off to grab some towels. When I got back, I threw a towel over his head and roughly dried his hair. "You're an idiot, you know that? Are you hurt anywhere?"

I knew he had been using Zetsu 24/7 to stop the poisonous aura from leaking out, but it didn't mean he shouldn't be careful about walking in the rain, since to him that was similar to pouring water over a fuse box.

"I'm fine."

"What happened to your hand?"

He talked as if he didn't hear me. "After you left, Jei told me what happened…what Darcie told you…how you looked. I rented a car and just drove…mindlessly. I didn't care where I was going. I just needed to go. But then I looked up and I was here, and I don't know why." His head bowed, his normally proud shoulders weighting with contrition. "I can't be here. You said you needed space, but I…"

"Hey, look at me," I whispered, stepping forward and cupping his face in my hands, my thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. "It's okay."

His hand fisted, closing tightly around his phone. After a long minute, he looked up at me and I saw a mess of fear and insecurity in his eyes, so clearly it took my breath away. "I don't know how to stay away from you."

"Shh." My heart broke as I brushed the wet strands away from his creased forehead, stroking his face, trying to soothe him. Quiet his busy, paranoid brain. "Who said you should stay away? I told you I wasn't running, and I'm not. No more running. You think I can walk away from you just like that? I can't. I…" My voice cracked before I could say _the_ word, because I didn't know if I could say it to him again. It would be like cutting open my chest and handing over my heart all over again, and I didn't think I was anywhere near being ready to do that. "I…I can't stay away from you, either."

"I saw it on your face. You were afraid of me again," he said hoarsely. "I know you're disgusted by what Darcie said, and I know you're scared of Maha's story…worried that I might be just like him…"

"Killua, no!" Oh my god… How he could think—? _I_ made him think. I did that. That was what my running did to him. Made him doubt himself. I knew just how he felt. How badly the self-doubt could sting and claw until you felt like you were going mad. "That's not why—" My words stopped when I glanced at him again, remembering that he was still soaked. "Come here. We'll talk after we find you something dry to wear."

Ignoring his muttered protests, I pulled him by the hand to the bathroom where I rinsed the blood off his knuckles under warm water and covered the scrapes in antiseptic cream. He watched me carefully, fingers trembling, tension filling the small room. I wanted to calm him, but I didn't know how.

We went to my room so I could flick through my closet to find something for him to wear.

Killua was watching the duffel bag I'd stuffed with my clothes before I sank into the bathtub on the bed. He stood in the doorway of my room for long moment, his haunted gaze on the bag, then shifting slowly to me, raking me from my head down to my toes. I was suddenly too aware of the fact that I was buck-naked under my robe, but what worried me more was that Killua made no teasing comment about it. I was starting to get really worried.

I thanked god I found a shirt in my closet that Marcus had once left here. I walked over to him, tugging his T-shirt over his head and dropping it on the floor.

Even frustrated and angry at the world, it was ridiculous that just being in the same room with him pushed my whole nerves into overdrive, but it did. Seeing him shirtless didn't do me any good either, so I pretended to be unaffected and stared at his neck as I threw the dry shirt over his head. It was a bit tight on him, because even though both of them were lean, Marcus was leaner and less broad-chested than Killua.

"Why are you packing?" he asked suspiciously.

"I told you I wanted to bring some clothes to the suite." He didn't look convinced, so I confirmed, "I'm _not_ leaving. I'm not going anywhere."

He was watching me with less suspicion now, but it was replaced with tired resignation. "If you leave me right now, I lose and my past wins."

I froze at first, because his words hit me like a sucker-punch. "Your past doesn't have the power to push me away. Only you can do that, and you didn't. And that's not why I came here." I turned toward my bed and literally lifted folded clothes and then dropped them in the same place, just to have something else to do than look so closely at him.

"You believed her, didn't you," he bit out from behind me, his voice tight. "Darcie. You let her get to you, and now you're shutting me down."

"No! God. It's not about that." I exhaled, breathing through all the emotions I was feeling. "I'm exhausted, Killua. There's only so much crap I can take before I'm buried neck-deep in it. I just want some peace and quiet for a night."

He closed his eyes again and sighed out a long, controlled breath. Then he threw his phone on my bed and was moving towards it. Silently, he sat on the edge, tugging at his hair. There was so much raw frustration emanating from him that I almost backed away.

Dammit, guilt flooded me. Sometimes I was selfish enough to forget that just like me, he had triggers, too. Despite his smugness and cavalier playboy attitude, Killua was just as insecure as I was, if not more so. It scared him when I ran, because he hated the thought that I might not come back. It scared him to show he was afraid. It scared him to face these feelings.

Suddenly, it all clicked into place.

_He's dark with too many issues to count._

Killua had intimacy issues.

I couldn't believe I never realized it before, even though the signs were there all along. He was abused as a child, even if I didn't know the extreme extent to that. The way he reacted when I cornered him in the bathroom was another proof that not being in control triggered panic for him, made him feel too vulnerable. If I didn't want to spend every minute with him, it meant I didn't want to spend any minute at all, that any distance between us was a sign we were falling apart. He was afraid of abandonment, afraid of opening up or letting people in too much because it frightened him to allow others to see him as he truly was.

Because what if he let people in, and they left? Decided they were done with him?

It was all out there, and I didn't see it. I was too wrapped up in my own issues to see it. I wasn't going to let him keep me out anymore. I had to push him, time and again.

Tightening the belt of my robe, I walked over and pulled his hand out of his hair. Immediately, he bowed his head, resting it against my stomach, and my throat closed tight. "Talk to me," I said, coaxing without demanding. "Why did Darcie say what she said?"

He was silent for a long time, but I sensed that part of him wanted to talk about it, so I stood there over him and waited, listening to him breathe. "Because it's true," he said, pulling back and off me. "To a certain point, she was right. Once upon a time, I was that guy. And I would have kept being him if Gon hadn't set me straight."

"Tell me about it. I want to know how it started."

He looked up at me. "Do you _really_ want to hear about that?"

"Well, as your girlfriend, no. Not one bit. But as your friend… yes, I do. Real bad."

"That makes no sense, Yuki."

"Pretty please?"

Sighing, he patted his leg for me, and I sat on his lap, draping my legs over his and sighing deliciously when he closed one steely arm around my hips. It took him a long time to get the words out. I waited patiently. Obstinately. He was looking away from me, talking to my wall of books and photos. Maybe it was easier for both of us this way.

"The only people who cared about me were my family," he began, "and they only cared about the person they wanted me to be, not the person I am. And the only person who loved me for who I am, died because of it."

He sucked in a lungful of air. "That wild period of my teenage life started by the time I turned sixteen. Lasted for a whole year, and ended this year."

He paused and I ran my fingers through his hair, urging him to continue. "I was nothing but a convenient lay for Darcie and these girls," he confessed in a rush, as if he just wanted to get it over with, "someone who gave them what they wanted and put up with it, just like I did with my family. I went on my way with it because sex was the only way for me to feel loved and needed… Or to not feel anything at all."

He looked down at the hand he had on my knee, letting me see some of the fragility he was always trying to hide. "Sometimes I lost myself to my own demons, and I couldn't bear to think, didn't want to feel. I just wanted to shut down my brain. I didn't want to be alone, but I didn't want to talk either. I only needed the distraction of focusing on someone else for a while, as long as it takes to quiet the voices in my head."

I stopped stroking his hair because he was starting to seem too distracted by it. "Killua?"

He grabbed my hand and put it back in his hair. "Keep going."

I gently ran my nails across his scalp, and he sighed. "When it was over, I felt like I did after every mission. Like I'd just done something that wasn't for me, something that did me no good whatsoever. Only complicated the mess in my head even further. These girls didn't care to know me, only about how good I gave it them. They just saw this"—he gestured at his body with a wave of his hand. "Not that I cared to know any of them anyway."

Oh, Killua. It was like re-living his childhood all over again, where he felt used, losing his sense of self-worth and self-respect.

"I didn't cut them off because I couldn't stand them, but because I couldn't stand _me_. I resented myself after every time. When it was over, it all came rushing back. Everything I was trying not to feel hit me in one go, stronger than before. The guilt, the shame, the self-hate. I felt them all back. And I always felt the need to put my clothes back on because I felt naked in the worst way. I felt exposed. And it fucked with my self-esteem even more."

He took a conscious breath and let it out slowly as the muscles in his jaw clenched and released. I really wanted to crawl inside his head and figure out what he was thinking.

"So," he said, "my point is, don't believe what Darcie said about me flaking out on you when we finally seal the deal, or about me not wanting you for the long haul, because it's ridiculous. I might have a lot of issues, but not wanting you isn't one of them. Controlling myself around you, on the other hand…" He looked pointedly at my bare legs. "Yeah…that's a definite problem."

I squirmed on his lap, feeling uncomfortably hot. "So we _are_ going to seal the deal?"

His eyes sparkled with laughter at my blush. "Maybe. If we keep this boyfriend-girlfriend thing for a while, and you don't want to murder me."

I creeped myself out a little because I was pretty sure that even if I wanted to murder him, I'd still want him to be mine.

"Does it bother you?" he asked, cautious. "That I was like that before I met you?"

I had to think for a moment. Right now, I was not sure how it made me feel. "Did you like it? I mean, did it at least make you feel good at some point?"

"I don't remember," he said, closing his eyes for a second, his voice unwavering and neutral. "It doesn't matter. What matters is how I felt afterwards."

"Is this why you said you couldn't…be with me in the shower? You thought you'd reverse back to those times and hate yourself afterwards?"

"No. It's because I have to be careful with you. I can't let you make the same mistakes I did by rushing mindlessly into it." He swallowed, and his hand came up, almost to my face, before he touched the silky lapel of my robe. "Because if I screw this up…" He took another deep breath, almost talking to himself. "I really don't want to screw this up."

"You won't," I said, studying him as he watched himself stroke my robe.

"I didn't want to tell you about all of that shit because I'm not like that anymore. What if I tell you something that really upsets you and you don't want to be with me anymore?"

"There's nothing that could…" I was going to say _nothing could push me away from you_, but then I realized I couldn't make that promise. But I could say, "There's nothing that could make me not want to be with you. Besides…" I lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I love being the person you bitch to," I added, and found my victory in his laugh.

He was silent for a long minute, before he said, "Look, I know we're not in the sixth grade, when going out means holding hands and constantly denying how much we like each other. It's lame and I'm not like that. It's not like I can actually hide what you do to me. It's pretty damn obvious, and so I won't deny it. I know how much I want you, and that's the problem. I want you too much, but sex with you…" He smiled at me, the kind of sad, enigmatic smile that made me melt inside. "While I'm pretty sure it's going to ruin me, I'm going to make it worth waiting for. And when we finally do it, I want it to be special to you. If you get nothing else out of this relationship, I can at least give you that."

Most of what he said made me swoon, but that last part… the fatalistic edge of it made me nervous.

I hugged him, pressing my cheek into his shoulder and trying to give him the comfort he probably needed a while ago. "Thank you for telling me all of that."

Killua half shrugged, a little awkwardly, not even realizing how amazing he was. "…Yeah, uh, no problem. Are you still worried about what Darcie said?"

"No, I wasn't worried in the first place," I told him, then huffed, adjusting myself on his lap. "Just…irrationally pissed-off. I can't catch a break. If it's not one thing, it's another."

"You forgot that I'm taking you away this weekend. No more stress. We can stay there and play hooky for a week."

"Okay." A whole week of having him all to myself sounded like something I needed.

"I don't care how you want to spend the vacation. If that involves us sitting around and talking, wearing barbed wires and damned chastity belts, that's fantastic. I just want you with me. Doesn't matter how, you decide. What I want isn't going to change under any circumstances. But if you're still feeling skeptical because of what Darcie said…" His gaze went to my face, fierce and set in a way that set alarms. "Then we can take care of that right now."

I blinked. "Take care of it how?"

He lifted me off his lap and set me aside on the bed so he could stand up. "If you're worried that I might freak out on you eventually after things get too intimate, then I can prove to you that I won't. Right now."

"What?" I shrieked, laughing. "Get the hell out of here! Didn't you say you wanted to wait like, five seconds ago?"

"Being 'intimate' doesn't necessarily mean going all the way. I can prove it to you and still keep it in my pants." His eyebrow twitched as he stared at me for long seconds with a straight face and those sharp emerald eyes until I understood what he was getting at.

Oh. _Ohhh…_.

_Oh my god_…My whole body heated up as I imagined what that would be like. My face and body flushed with so much heat. My heart started pounding so loud and fast, making me feel dizzy as blood rushed through every inch of my skin.

His hands went to his hips and he shrugged. "I'm dead serious. I'll do it right here, on this bed. In this room." He glanced around the room with an eye-squint. "Too colorful for my tastes, but I'll make do. I'm sure it won't be a problem for you 'cause, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't it every teenager's fantasy to christen their childhood bedroom?"

"Stop it." I tried to stop the smile that broke out on my face, thinking he was indeed joking. Then my eyes went wider at the alarmingly determined look on his face and I said more loudly, "Stop it!"

"Come on. You're practically naked anyway."

"Get out of my room, Killua. I'll finish packing and we'll go back to the suite and never speak of this again for another year. Or a decade."

"You won't change your mind? I possess a wide variety of useful…skills."

I started to laugh, but the animal hunger in his eyes told me he was absolutely serious. No smirks and no arrogant remarks. This time, Killua was not teasing.

He stepped up toward the bed where I was still sitting and my heart raced to unbelievable speeds.

Oh, god. He wanted this for real. He was going to do it.

I held my breath as he leaned forward, his eyes never leaving mine.

…But he didn't touch me. Instead his hand snuck behind me and retrieved his phone that he'd thrown on the bed earlier. Then he straightened back again, walking his way out of the bedroom.

"Hurry and put some clothes on, Yuki, and then meet me outside," he said over his shoulder, "before I forget why I let you keep that robe on."

* * *

Killua escorted me downstairs to the waiting car, threw my bag into the backseat as I settled inside the passenger seat. When he braced his forearm against my window sill, I leaned in and smacked a chaste kiss to his lips, saying, "Thank you for showing."

He smiled the first real smile for the night. "Actually, I didn't quite show you—"

"Showing _in_ my apartment," I added, pecking him again.

"Oh, that. You're welcome. Thanks for having me."

I smirked. "Actually, I didn't quite—"

"We could do this all night."

"You're right."

"That's an offer, by the way," he informed me with a tilt to his lips. "I could still take you back upstairs, if you're having second thoughts."

"Get in the car, Killua."

He kissed me one more time, smiling against my lips, this kiss lingering this time and making me forget why we even thought about leaving. He nipped my lower lip with his teeth and then soothed the sting with the caress of his tongue. Just as I was parting my lips for him, I heard a chorus of catcalls and laughter from some teenage boys in costumes behind us. I bit back a smile as Killua turned his head slowly towards them, directing a steely-eyed, eyebrow-arched look their way, and they backed off like kittens, looking anywhere but us.

I wiped smudges of lipstick from the corner of his mouth and said, "Lets go before you make the rest of my neighborhood pee their pants."

Killua hopped into the driver's seat and started the car. "It's still Halloween. Wanna go for a spin and make fun of people before we go back to our place?"

I kind of loved it when he called the suite 'our place'. He was good at making me feel better even when he didn't try. He wasn't good at driving, though. "No offense, but I'd rather go to Disneyland with your family than go on a ride with you again."

He looked offended. "Why not?"

I sighed as I looked out the window. "Because I've seen what happened the last morning you dropped me at the Nostrads."

"That accident wasn't my fault!"

"Baby, you crashed into a parked car."

"It was in a no parking zone!"

"Did that make it invisible?"

"Yes. My eyes only recognize non-illegally parked cars."

I laughed. "Just go to the hotel for now, please."

He rolled his eyes and we drove by a chaotic street near the hotel. There was a swarm of people in different costumes that crackled with the red-and-blue flash lights of the police car that was parked in the middle of the street. It looked like something had happened here.

"What happened here?" I asked with a frown.

"Halloween teenage riot?" Killua scoffed nonchalantly. "Someone has probably mixed alcohol and car keys."

I scanned the crowd as we passed them. Teenagers stood in gossiping circles, their faces somewhere between curious and wary. Amidst the masses of cloaks and floppy witch-hats, my eyes caught a quite familiar figure by the lamppost, the only person who wasn't wearing a costume. Slightly short, shaggy hair, grumpy face, hoodie. "Hey, look, it's Jei—" Then I frowned when Jei who hadn't seemingly paid attention to us, pulled the hat of his hoodie over his head, and when the next car passed before my window, he was gone.

"Where?" Killua asked, leaning in.

"I don't know…he was there…somewhere." Weird.

When we walked hand in hand into the Grandview five minutes later, there was tension in the air of the lobby. A certain level of wariness on the staff's faces.

What stroke me most was that Darcie wasn't there behind her desk, but in her place was a grim-faced new receptionist. Now getting more than a little confused, I stopped the arm of a passing bellboy and said, "Hello"—I glanced at his name tag—"Linus. What's going on in here?"

Linus looked grimly between Killua and I. "Uhh, something happened to one of the receptionists. Darcie."

I spun to shoot Killua a look, and he winced. "What's with the judgy eyes?" he scolded, tightening his hand around mine. "I haven't talked to her in a week."

I looked back at Linus. "What happened to her?"

"She was found murdered in her apartment twenty minutes ago."

* * *

**A/N:** So…I guess we can say that Jei is a…hardcore YuKil shipper. You NEVER mess with a hardcore shipper.

Hey, guys, I'm a bit insecure, but do you like long chapters? 'Cause I feel like mine are just getting longer since I'm stuffing two chapters in one every time. Which is actually why it takes me one month to update. Please let me know if you'd like shorter chapters. And please review and tell me what you liked about this chapter because emotionally-confronting scenes make me nervous, since in real life, I'm the emotional equivalent of the Great Wall.

I've started posting teasers for the next chapters on my tumblr. So if you've got one (or if you haven't) stay tuned with me. If you're an anon reader and have any question about the story or the plot, ask me there on tumblr since I can't reply to you here.


	44. (Un)Pleasant Bombshells

**A/N: **Hi guys! You are the coolest dudes and dudettes for your reviews/tumblr asks/PMs. Yes, I just said dudes 'cause I recently discovered that I have some boys reading this. So that's awesome. On with the chapter. Why are you reading this anyway?

* * *

**_45. (Un)Pleasant Bombshells_**

* * *

_CeeCee was a master at body language. Her ability to read people was ridiculously accurate, honed further by experience, and years of practice. _

_The nineteen year old brunette stood casually with her elbow on the bar, half-heartedly listening to the bartender who was offering his own psychiatric slash barber entertainment to her other companion. Her green gaze was fixated on the young man who had walked into the club twenty minutes ago. _

_He lounged against the wall with his arms and ankles crossed, watching, observing, like a sleek panther on the prowl. His tall, powerful frame was shown off to full advantage in an all-black ensemble, like a pretty Grim Reaper. His hair was slightly long at the sides, pearly-colored and tousled, like he'd run a hand through it and let his styling stop at that. His thickly-lashed eyes were a dark shade of green, sharply intelligent, sensually hooded, but relentless in their intensity. His mouth was wicked, lips etched and soft-looking. But there was nothing else soft about this boy. He was jaded and hard. He was cut from a ruthless cloth. _

_One long look at him and CeeCee knew: This boy was trouble._

_A bad-boy, the wild child, the rebel with a cause and reason. __Cocky, critical, compelling. __Untamed. Harsh. Heartbreaker. The one women subconsciously followed with their gazes, then their feet. The one parents spoke about in hushed, careful voices. The one that caused kids to pause playing to step away from him as he walked through. Whether it was fear or reverence, there was something about him that caused people to give him ample space.  
_

_But it wasn't his economical grace, his beautifully ripped body, his long, clever-looking candid fingers, the severity of his handsomeness, or the challenging vibe of danger he exuded that immediately drew people in. It was the way he _moved_. _

_CeeCee had never seen a person so…enthralling. He stood as if he owned the place. He walked as if he took over the room. The ultra well-placed confidence, nearly bordering on arrogance, that he radiated made every other boy seem small and boring. Even h__is stance on the wall—__with his shoulders and head resting on the wall, while the rest of his boy was angled upward__—was pure provocation. He looked like someone who hated a challenge, but searched for it anyway. Craved it, even.  
_

_CeeCee had never seen a person so damn smooth. How he walked, how he stood, spoke, even blinked, was something really interesting to watch. Like being in control of himself and those around him was as effortless as breathing__—_something he was born with, grew up with, and practiced in every minute of the day. He was totally calm, like he controlled time. He was not in hurry. He took his time in what he did. Relished in the hunt. Savored it. He was the perfect predator.  


_CeeCee saw hunters everyday. Contacted with them on daily basis, but she'd never seen someone as self-assured as this boy. Some hunters played the confident role to cover up their weaknesses; a defense-__mechanism on the battle stage_. But this boy gave himself the credit he knew he deserved. He knew his abilities, he knew his limits, he knew his strengths points, and he played very well with them all like his little action figures.

_He turned his eyes to her, catching her staring at him._

_Her breath caught as he raked her from head to toe with a slow, calculating look… then he was walking up to her, his stride unhurried and confident. He stood next to her. Ordered a drink. Made eye contact. She watched him. Observed him closely. Made conversation. Observed him some more. His relaxed shoulders, his smoky drawling voice, __his unpredictable_ moodiness, his alpha attitude. Noticed how all his body language was comparable in speed. 

_He stood closer to her. Short conversation. Personal questions cleverly disguised as impersonal. Learned enough. Knew what he wanted in less than ten minutes without her even noticing. Then, when she was dazzled by his self-possession, steely control, tremendous power, and intense magnetism, he went for the kill:_

_"How much do you know about Ging Freecs?"_

_"Not enough for all-in, but enough to check-in."_

_"What is the price you would give for that small information?"_

_She looked him in the eye. "You."_

_He smirked. His trap had hooked, claws and teeth. "Your information better be worth it, because that's a rather expensive price."  
_

_CeeCee didn't doubt that for one second._

_"Let's go." He drained the rest of his drink and started walking away._

_She was following him._

_"I have rules," he said as he walked briskly down the sidewalk with her trying to keep up with his pace. "__Don't ask me to stay after midnight, and you can't expect to see me after tonight. __I'm not a hearts and flowers guy. I'm not even an all-night guy. I don't date, I don't do romance, I don't cuddle and I don't kiss. I also don't like loud girls.__ But I'll tell you one thing I do do, I provide a good __short-lived thrill ride, a guaranteed satisfaction when I'm given what I want. __But that's it__. __If you're down for that, then I am too. __If you can't handle it, if you want any of those things, turn around and walk the opposite direction."_

_But she kept following him. Like an idiot. Because he __was like a flame_ and she was like the moth, like all the other moths that flocked around him. It was only natural for them to gravitate towards him. Eventually, the moths would be burned by the same flame that lured them. 

_Because if you follow the flame, you will most likely end up in the dark.  
_

_She'd later learned that his name was Killua. A unique name, just like him. Unique wasn't an enough word for him. Knock-out. Infernal. Lithe. Lissome. Unctuous. Alluring. Those were better. Because those were him in a nutshell. He reminded her of a quote she once read that couldn't suit him more perfectly.  
_

_'Clever as the Devil and twice as pretty.'_

* * *

I tapped my heeled foot restlessly onto the golden-veined marble floor of Gary's office. November first was a cloudy day, with only a bit of sun filtering through the clouds and the wall-of-windows of the office. Giving the place the whole sunrise-before-the-battle feel.

Gary and I had a routine to communicate at the start of every month. If I didn't make the effort to come see him or make a phone call, he'd track me down. Quite literally, actually. I'd learned the hard way to never allow Gary the chance to track me down, because he could do it. He was filthy rich with many connections and he played with the most important people in York Shin like his dominoes.

Those monthly get-togethers between us were an exercise of patience to me. To him, they were a chance to remind me of how he looked like as the guardian alpha. That he was responsible for me and under his watch.

That was the nature of all men with power like Gary. They have money so they control. Or they control because they have money. Whatever. I'd found myself getting used to alpha males lately. Especially since I was falling for one of them.

My phone pinged with a text from Killua. Speak of the devil.

_Gossip. Say anything. Distract me from threatening to cut off Rick's balls and feed them to our Rottweiler._

I texted back, _We don't have a Rottweiler._

_No but he doesn't know that._

I shook my head with a smile. Rick was CeeCee's friend who was supposed to be giving the boys juicy tidbits about Gon's father, since Rick was also a hunter and a wanderer without a clear purpose in life. But well, aren't most hunters like that. The problem was that Rick was giving them a hard time spilling what he had, even after Killua used the help of Jei Almighty. Seemed like Rick was one of those clever people who could shield their thoughts away from mind readers. It was driving Killua crazy.

He was hoping to get something out of Rick before we left for our vacation tomorrow, and he gave it his full attention. Darcie's murder came a shock to me, but not to Killua, who seemed to take the idea of her getting murdered a little too lightly for my liking. He wasn't happy, but he was a little too blasé about her death. I told him he sounded like an asshole, and he openly stated that he didn't care whether she lived or died. He said she was damaged-goods personified and it wasn't surprising that she had haters lurking to get rid of her.

I was neither convinced nor relented, so I made a mental note to go back to this later, since our plate was full already.

I typed,_ I can't offer any distraction. I'm already exercising my body and mind by just being here._

His reply came quick and quick-witted. _Skip the meeting with your uncle and meet me instead. I'll give you a better work-out._

I laughed, my toes doing a little happy dance in my heels, my thumbs typing, _I'll accuse you of being silver-tongued. Use it to make Rick bend to your will. You're pretty good at that._

_How do you know?_

I replied,_ Well, you've worked that devil charm on me more than once._

_Please, I haven't even begun to charm you yet. Just wait until I get you alone tomorrow._

_Promises, promises, _I wrote back._ I'll hold you to that._

_Now that's what a good girl would say. You'll hold whatever I tell to, right? _I could swear the screen of his text flashed with shameless innuendo.

I arched an eyebrow as I wrote,_ Careful. There's a very thin line between cute and creepy and right now you're straddling it._

_You know what I really want to straddle, right?_

_You're so bad._

_Yeah but only in a good way._

My smile widened. I knew if I looked at a mirror right now, I'd see my eyes all shiny, my cheeks all rosy, and my smile making me look like I was both really happy and also like I was about to hurl. I'd look like a magazine-cover teen star.

Or maybe a beautiful tomato.

It was amazing how a couple words by him through a screen could make me feel this smitten. I was falling. Hard.

Falling for the way his hair was perfectly chaotic when he worried it with his fingers. For the disapproving furrow of his brow, the sharp angle of his jaw, the gentle curve of his mouth. His fingers that found refuge in pocket-burying. The way his lips parted in quickened breaths when he stared at me. The way he brushed the back of his hand over my cheek when he passed by me in the hallway. Or the quick winks he gave me when he knew no one else was watching. The affectionate glances he gave me when he thought _I_ wasn't watching.

All of it. I was falling for him and he didn't know.

Well…I'd said it to him once, but there was so many things wrong with that moment I first told him I loved him. It sounded like something I'd say to Marcus, or even Gon. It wasn't personal. I was emotionally-charged, happy, and caught up in a good-bye moment. I also didn't know the real him then, therefore I didn't say it to _him_. I said it to the person he wanted me to see, not the person he was. I said it without looking into the eyes of the real him—the person behind the mask. I doubted he took me seriously, since he knew the words would be wasted to hell once I found out who he was. He knew I'd take them back, knew I'd regret them, and I made sure to tell him I had indeed regretted them. I told him it was the thing I was most ashamed of. I'd never forget his face when I said that.

Everything was different now. I knew the real him. I knew him and liked him a lot more than I'd liked the Zaoldyeck-free person he was with me at the beginning. But I didn't know whether or not I was ready to tell him how I felt about him right now.

I was still getting used to the idea of needing someone this much. Still trying to wrap my head around how I got here so quickly. So…dependent.

Of someone.

A boy.

I hated it.

I'd always been fine being solo. A perfect loner. I was a strong, relatively smart girl. I didn't need anyone to make my days complete. I'd been autonomous. A free spirit.

Lonely as hell.

I hated admitting that, because it sounded like I had nobody. I had my job. And Marcus. My emotionally-distant uncle. And my long-distance sessions with my master. And countless other acquaintances I'd met over the years. And yet, none of them inhabited the empty space left by Killua. It was like there was a part of me that was shut up tight, and no one but him could reopen it.

And now he'd made himself right at home. He moved in there. Renovated the hell out of the place. Made it more special than it ever was. Bigger. Harder to live in without him.

Solitude was easy enough to bear when I was alone, but now that I had someone, it was like sitting in the dark, waiting for them to return with their stupid, perfect light. The one that banished the shadows and the worries that hid in them.

I hated how bright he shone. It just made everything seem that much dimmer when he wasn't around.

Gary came into his office, looking dapper and mysterious in his expensively-tailored black suit. I immediately put my phone down and wiped any traces of smiling off my face. It was like being in the principal's office. Only in my case, it was always like a punishment.

I'd been told my whole life that I looked just like him. When people saw me as a kid, nobody said, 'She has her father's smile' or 'She has her mother's eyes.' They said she had her uncle's. His hair was jet-black like mine, only longer and more kempt in its ponytail. Although our eyes had the exact same worn denim-blue color, his weren't arrogantly almond-shaped like mine, but more innocently rounder on the edges. I'd got my height from him, my hard-headedness, and inability to compromise. If I didn't know better I'd say he was my real father, but Gary was known to avoid women in his life. (Or men, for that matter.) He wasn't even a no-strings-attached man, just not…attached.

I eyed him over carefully as he slid behind his desk, nervousness already cramping my stomach and he hadn't even spoken yet. Gary was one of those men that could set a thick tension in the room by just walking into it. His voice was raspy and so calm, it would put a raging baby to sleep by just talking long enough. Overall, he looked nowhere near scary. I knew I could kick his ass despite his six feet, four inches of height and muscled body, but he still intimidated the living hell out of me.

He shot a brisk glance my way before he resumed checking his paperwork. "You're glowing."

I stopped breathing. _Gary is complimenting? Me of all people? What's happening to the world? _Although it could be a scornful comment disguised as a compliment, because my face was slightly sweaty. Still, I said, "Thank you."

He signed some papers and sent some emails on hold for the next ten minutes, barely acknowledging my presence, like I was a chair or something. Still, I found patience and waited.

"Lucca told me you paid us a little visit. Did you schedule your visit to happen on a time where I wouldn't be home?"

_Yes, duh._ I kept quiet. "I was there to…"

"I don't want to know. You don't have to tell me. What you do in your parents' house isn't my concern," he said in a rush. "Neither is your private life, so I won't ask you to tell me about that Killua boy."

That's the funny thing about Gary's voice. That 'I won't ask you to tell me' awfully sounded like 'You better tell me.'

"There's nothing to tell," I said with a sip of my coffee. "We're just… friends."

Gary's nod was barely perceptible. "I like him. He never left your side when you were in the hospital."

"You two met each other?" _How come Killua never told me?_

"I asked him not to tell you," Gary added, reading my mind. "Proves that he's a responsible young man. I was starting to think it was impossible for you to hang around such people," he muttered under his breath, and I tensed, my jaw clenching. This was clearly a subtle jab at my master. Gary never missed a chance. "Stick with him. He sounds like a good young man, despite his unfortunate name…"

Gary's secretary chose that moment to inform him of his ten-o'clock meeting. And of my freedom.

We both stood, and he escorted me outside. "When were you going to tell me why you sent our pilot to some place called _Whale Island_?"

"I'm shipping my friend's aunt to York Shin as a surprise," I said as we stepped into the elevator. "She's coming here today to stay with us for a while. Maybe you two should meet."

As if I'd subject Mito-san to the torture of having a tight-assed man like Gary around, but it was fun to watch Gary's reaction to this.

"Maybe someday."

"She's quite young. Thirty. Only two years younger than you. She was barely fourteen when she raised my friend."

"Hmm. Admirable."

"Yep. She's pretty, you know."

Gary's face remained impassive, facing straight ahead. "Good for her."

"Single, too."

He shot me a look that scorched. I raised my hands up in resignation.

When I left the building, I typed a quick text to Killua. _I'm going to the private airport. Meet me there. Start walking now.  
_

His reply:_ Bossy. I like it._

My eyes narrowed._ Stop texting. You'd better have your fine ass over there in about ten minutes._

_Yes, ma'am_.

* * *

Killua and I went to the private airport. If it wasn't for his help, I wouldn't be able reach Mito-san or find her. He practically did all the necessary paperwork two weeks ago and contacted Mito-san without Gon knowing. I wanted to pay Gon back for the heartwarming birthday dinner he made me. I couldn't think of something as thoughtful as bringing the person he loved most in this world here.

We stood in the open windy air as close to the place where the private jet would land as we safely could. I leaned my forearms on the safety railing while Killua's hands were pushed into my front pockets and splayed against my hipbones, keeping me tucked close to his chest. As we waited for Gary's jet to land, which was due to any minute now, Killua proceeded to tell me stories about Mito-san from his point of view, which was no different from Gon's idolizing versions.

By the time he was finished, I was awed. "Wow…A parent who listens and understands and is a loving and nurturing person who sets a positive example through his/her actions. What's _that_ like?"

He laughed wryly. "Things didn't go well with your uncle, huh."

"Things never do. Both of us won't give up on our high expectations. Our entire relationship revolves about him expecting me to turn into the person he wants and me expecting him to be okay with who I am and let me make my own choices."

"Welcome to the club."

"Ugh. Please don't compare my uncle to your parents. At least Gary didn't raise up a child who is brash, obnoxious, self-serving, makes very inappropriate jokes—"

"Whoa, slow down there, Yuki, before I go ahead and marry myself." He pinched my ribs sharp enough to make me yelp and leave behind a hot sting even through my shirt.

In retaliation, I wiggled my butt against him and smiled when he gasped out a hissing breath and cursed softly.

"Behave," he admonished stiffly in my ear, tightening his hold to the point of immobilizing me. "I'm meeting Gon's mother figure in a minute."

"Well then you behave, too."

"Want to play rough, beastie?" He tilted his head and nipped my earlobe with his teeth. I let out an embarrassingly girly sound, and his silent laugh vibrated against against my back. "Man, it's too easy for me to make you make these sexy little noises." But before I could react (possibly by making a hole in his abs with my elbow) a blaring noise that signaled the arrival of the private jet snapped us back to the present.

"She's here!"

Just like her nephew, Mito-san was a soothing presence to anyone who looked at her. She stood few feet across from us, frowning as she existed the plane. She was prettier in person than she'd been in Gon's pocket photo. Young and slender, with big baby blue eyes and a cascade of flaming red hair that contrasted beautifully with her fair skin, Mito-san was like a breath of fresh air. Her dress was modestly feminine, a flowing knee-length skirt that flared out from the waist, and her posture had the kind of flamboyant confidence that I admired.

When she turned her face toward us and saw Killua approaching, her lips curved in an enchanting, motherly smile.

Killua threw his hands in the air. "There you are! A private plane full of wrinkly senior travelers arrived ten minutes ago, how come you didn't ride with them?" he joked in mock seriousness.

"Do you ever change?" Mito-san mock glared at him, but the affection she had for him was right there in her eyes. Even with heels, she had to push onto her tiptoes to hug him around the neck. She whispered something in his ear to which Killua responded with a wide smile. "You boys, you grew up so fast. I'm starting to feel ancient."

"Starting to?" Killua teased.

She slapped his shoulder lightly as she pulled away, then she smiled at me and stuck out her hand. "And you must be…"

"Ah, you mean this?" Killua grasped my hand and drew me up to his side, introducing me with the usual: "This is mine."

I rolled my eyes—even though I quite enjoyed his introduction—and shook Mito-san's hand. "Yuki. The bane of Killua's existence."

"Ah, Yuki." Her expression grew fonder, if that was even possible. "Thank you so much for shipping me here."

"No thanks necessary," I said, waving it off. "Ever. I just wanted to beat your nephew in the Who-Can-Bring-The-Bestest-Gift game."

She smiled a little shyly. "Gon told me so many nice things about you in his last letter, I started wishing you were his girlfriend instead."

Delighted, I grinned and wished Gon was here to hear that, because he'd definitely look seven shades of uncomfortable.

Killua scoffed into Mito-san's face. "What are you talking about? Gon's full of luck that he survived _this_." He gestured with his eyes at me. "Me on the other hand, I'm doomed for life." But even as he said that, his hand tightened possessively around mine.

Mito-san watched our joined hands fondly. "Met as kids, parted ways for years, and now together. You two were meant to find each other."

Killua and I exchanged a sly look, then he rolled his eyes and said, "Oh, yeah, we exchanged umbilical promises in the womb."

"Don't be facetious, Killua," Mito-san scolded, but she was fighting a smile.

He grinned back at her. "Don't be hyperbolic, Mito-san."

"Don't talk back to your friend's parent, Killua," I interrupted, and Mito-san beamed at me. "Even if she's being hyperbolic." She pulled a face and we laughed. Killua carried Mito-san's bag and we drove her to the suite so she could see Gon. We entered as quietly as possible since Gon was sound asleep. Mito-san wanted to wake him up, but Killua said there was no need for that.

He grabbed Mito-san's shoulders from behind and made her stand on the threshold of the bedrooms hallway, far away from Gon's room. We looked at him strange until he said, "Watch this. It's really impressive." He waved his hand twice in front of Mito-san and toward the hallway, as if he was sending a whiff of her scent in some kind of voodoo magic. Two seconds in, the bedroom's door was yanked open and a disheveled Gon was eagerly sleep-walking toward us.

When she saw him, Mito-san's eyes were lit with love. When Gon was a yard away, she launched herself at him and hugged him tightly, looking so small and delicate in his big arms. He wrapped his around her, looking so grateful to see her, to have her with him, like all the other troubles in his life would fade into the background while she was around.

Killua smiled at me and threw his arm around me, kissing my temple. She was really the bestest gift I ever brought to someone.

When the night hit, we made s'mores and sat by the fireplace. The time was lost between laughing, stories-telling, good-natured teasing, and chocolate. I folded all my worries into the back of my head and enjoyed the remains of the night. It seemed like Mito-san's presence was everything we all needed right now.

* * *

I picked up the dirty plates and took them to the kitchen. As I absentmindedly rinsed the melty-gooey chocolate of a plate, Killua came up behind me and gripped my upper arms.

"Tomorrow," he promised with his cheek pressed to my temple. "I'll have you all to myself. I really, really need to kiss you for a very long time. Maybe the whole time." My eyes closed as he brushed his lips to my skin. "I miss kissing you."

I settled back into him with my head pillowed on his shoulder and watched as more laughter erupted from the living room. "I think today is the happiest I've ever been in a while."

I felt his smile, the way his cheek moved against me. "You like Mito-san?"

"Yes, I think she's a badass." I tilted my head to whisper, "Raising a child that isn't yours while being so young? Being a great role model? Having such powerful impact? That's badass stuff."

Killua sighed. "People assume being a badass is about being tough, winning or proving a point. But it's not," he said. "Being a badass is not about power or courage. Doing the bad thing is easy. Tempting. The safer choice. It's much harder to do the right thing. In every sense of the word—figuratively, emotionally, sometimes physically. You fight instincts; temptation, greed, selfishness, self-satisfaction… everything you were born with. Being badass is about testing yourself through your limits, and in the process, finding yourself. It's looking at the bad thing you wish to do, picking it up, and saying, 'Fuck this. I'm not doing you, and there's no way I'm up to it.' Power and courage come later. The decisions you make are what really count. Forcing people to pay attention to you isn't badass. Making them _want_ to pay attention to you is."

He exhaled a heavy sigh as he looked in the direction of the living room. "Which is what makes Mito-san a badass—self-sacrifice while being able to give such impact to someone, and subconsciously teach them to pay it forward. It wasn't easy, because it was right. Gon is really lucky." His faraway gaze was of admiration and awe… though it was tinged with little bit of jealousy.

I turned around in his arms to see his face. There was something in his voice that made me hurt for him. He'd always been emotionally distant from his family and he had to self-destruct to be able to re-shape himself into the person he wanted to be.

He'd never been loved, not like he wanted, not the way he deserved, and certainly not in the way that came so easily for him.

"Hey, Killua?"

"Hmm?"

I traced the arch of his arrogantly slashed eyebrow until he looked down at me. Stretching up onto my tiptoes, I pressed a hand over his heart and looked him straight in the eye. "I love you."

His intake of breath was so sharp and the violent shudder that moved through him was hard enough to shake me, too.

I nuzzled down his neck and lingered there, averting my face to give him some privacy. "I'm not going to pretend I don't anymore. I love you. More than that, I'm completely in love with you. I know I am. You don't have to say anything back. I just didn't want another minute to go by without you knowing that. You can tuck it away now."

With that, I left him and skipped away to the living room where the others sat and laughed. It didn't escape my notice that Killua was silent nearly the entire evening.

* * *

When Mito-san and Gon were lost in conversation and catching up on personal stuff, I left them to it and looked for Killua.

I found him in the balcony. He stood with his back to the living room. His arms were crossed and he was staring out at the awe-inspiring view of York Shin's skyline, his hunched shoulders giving the impression of a very solitary guy, someone who had always felt separate from the world around him. There seemed to be something in his eyes. A weary sadness. Like being inside his own mind was exhausting, but he couldn't find his way out.

I wrapped myself in a small blanket and went to him. Voices and laughter from the living room drowned out when I stepped closer towards the balcony.

When I leaned into the glassy doorjamb, he turned his head and caught me with his icy green gaze. I watched him switch gears from contemplative to compassionate, his eyes softening as he reached his hand out between us. "Come here. I need to tell you something."

I hurried over to stand next to him, craving his closeness, and he stepped aside so I could stand in his place. When I did, he slid up behind me with his chest pressed to my back, his hands gripping the railing.

I looked ahead, fighting back the surge of apprehension that hit me when he caged me in his arms and kept me close to his body. I came to learn that Killua only arranged us to stand like this when he wanted to reveal something to me. Perhaps to make sure I wouldn't run. His forearms were on either side of mine, marred with fading scars and whip-marks sporadically tracing almost every inch of skin, were bare despite the freezing weather. He was only wearing a thin T-shirt.

"You're going to catch a cold if you don't put something on."

"I can't feel it," he said quietly. My head perked up in confusion, and he explained. "The cold. I can't feel it. It's been a while since I really felt it."

His gaze was still set on the view before us when he began, "When Alluka and I were kids…"

At that, I tilted my head to look at him, but all I got was an eyeful of his jaw. I was curious to know more—or anything, really—about his childhood. The only thing I knew about Alluka was that he died because he loved Killua. He loved him in the way that wasn't approved by his family.

"We spent a lot of time together when I wasn't training or on a mission. He was the only one to spend time with me. Milluki hated me because I got all the attention, Illumi was always too busy and never believed in brother-bonding unless I got some training out of it, and Kalluto was too attached to our mother so he grew up holding it against Alluka too. I would take him in the fields of the estate where we could play without the taunting eyes of our brothers. Our favorite game was the stream challenge. There was a stream in our estate that was so cold in the winter, it felt as if it could burn your skin off. But Alluka and I both had extreme tolerance for pain, and so we would see who could keep his hand in the freezing water the longest." He paused, and his mouth curved into the edge of a faintly malicious smile. "I won every time."

I studied his averted face. He didn't sound happy when he said that. He just sounded… resigned. I, on the other hand, thought it sounded terribly sad. I couldn't imagine what it was like to not be able to feel pain, or anything for that matter. He'd been numb—physically and emotionally—for so long. Maybe his whole life.

Reaching down, I slipped my hands under his on the railing, and his long fingers immediately wrapped over my gripping fists, warming them from the cold. "Did you two use to go on missions together?"

"No. Alluka wasn't allowed out of the mansion. I was the only one who could lock him out of his room, since my family preferred to keep him on the down low, away from everyone else's eyes. Away from _their_ eyes. They didn't want to even look at him. They all avoided him like a plague. When I wasn't around, he was always alone, always by himself. No one talked to him. No one took care of him. I would go find him after my mission, and I would try to make him forget about being ignored and left out. Alluka would sit on the grass plucking berries that were safe to eat, listening to me talk about venturing off on adventures when I got him out of the mansion for good. Sometimes I saw it in his eyes—he didn't believe I'd be able to do it. But he placated me anyway. He nodded and forced a smile. He was too young to force a smile, but he did it for me."

"Because he loved you," I told him.

"He loved me too much."

"There's no such thing as loving _too_ much—"

"There is when the other person doesn't deserve it. Alluka knew how his family saw him, how everyone felt about him. It didn't matter because he knew _I_ was there. That I would always be there to make the pain go. Nothing mattered but the way _I_ saw him. He looked up to me because he thought I was strong and that I had it all together. He died believing the same thing. Sometimes I wish he knew the real me but other times, I'm glad he didn't. He looked up to me and expected me to become the comfort he needed when he was scared. He expected me to be there when the world turned its back on him, but I wasn't. I was everything he had, and I disappointed him."

That was not true. I tried to turn around to look at him, but he stopped me, holding me still.

"Let me finish." An electric tingle coursed through me, as it always did when his voice took on that hard commanding tone.

His arms wrapped tightly around me, keeping me in place. For a minute, there was silence, before he said, "I know I'm going to disappoint you, too."

"I don't believe that," I interjected quickly.

"You will. Because I'll do it right now."

That rendered me silent and speechless. There was a scary sense of anticipation thrumming through me, and I had no idea what he was going to say next, but I really needed to find out. So I waited.

His intake of breath was deep and weary. "I can't say those three words back."

_Oh_. Well, that wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. "It's alright. I told you that I don't expect you to tell me now. You're not ready."

"I might never be ready. One day, you're going to need to hear me say it, and it's the only thing I can't give to you."

I didn't know what to say to that. I didn't know if I could say anything. To be honest, I never really expected him to tell me that he loved me. Ever. But hearing it coming from him that it was never going to happen… well, that sucked a little bit. I hated that I was disappointed.

"It's not that I don't feel it," he said softly. His chin came to rest on the crown of my head. "It just doesn't feel right to _say_ it out loud. I used to hear those words every day from my mother, seconds before I found poison in my system, or right after I woke up from the electric shock. That was how I came to learn them. That was the only way I knew what they meant."

I frowned and my hands clenched in white-knuckled fists around the railing. I was furious for him. Furious that a mother hadn't done her job and protected her child from pain. Furious that the child had been Killua.

His reason made perfect sense. For him, love had been always linked to hurt and tears. Love made him lose parts of himself and the only person he cared about.

"But I'm not her," I said firmly. "I'm not your mother. I'm nothing like her. I will never hurt you." I stopped when I caught the fallacy in my promise. "Well, not never. I hurt you once. I know I hurt you so much when I pulled that trigger, and I haven't forgiven myself for it. I don't think I'll ever move past that memory."

I wasn't that much better than his mother back then. I'd wanted to hurt him—by choice. I'd wanted to punish the child he'd once been who had _no_ choice, a child who was just like me.

"You can rationalize what you've done, but that doesn't alleviate the weight on your conscience." He sighed. "I know the feeling."

"I wish I could make it go away," I whispered. "It sucks to remember the bad choices I've taken, the words I've said that I can't take back. The person I let myself be."

"I get it." He exhaled, so slowly it lulled my eyes to close. "No matter how long I showered after I'd been on a mission or with some random woman, it was never long enough to feel clean."

I turned in his arms to face him. This time he let me. "I love everything about you, even the things you hate about yourself; especially those things. I love you, and I know you're scared, but you feel the same way. I know you do. And though I was told you'd hurt me, I've never seen it. All I've seen is someone who's looking for a second chance to be himself, to let people see who he is. I've seen someone who's kind and patient with those who give him time to see, not just look. And the guy I've come to know deserves to be loved in every way he wants."

His exhale was shaky as he touched my face, the backs of his fingers trailing almost reverently over my cheek. "You deserve to hear those words every day. But they're not right for you. They're not enough for what I…" He looked at my mouth, his eyes dark and turbulent, and I could see that he was struggling to hold in everything he was feeling. "People can lose love, time and again, they can survive it, and may even give up on it. But not me. I can't give up on you. I can't let you go. I know I can't tell you how I feel about you in the same way you do, but you have me. I can't be more yours."

My breath left me in a rush. Those words meant more than all the _I love yous_ in the world.

I sighed and gripped his v-neck collar. "I want to kiss you so badly right now."

"Yeah?" He leaned forward.

I hummed and touched my thumb gently to his perfectly etched lips, and they opened, his breath hot against my hand. My heart started pounding as I ran my finger across his top lip, then stroked the bottom one.

He rested his forehead against mine and grazed his thumbs over my ribs. When he spoke, his voice was low and deep. "Kissing you is the first thing on the very long list of things I want to do to you right now."

My face heated, because he'd said _to you_, not _with you_. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me," I said, unable to stop looking at his mouth. "What else is on that list?"

He just stared at me, and the way his expression morphed into heavy-lidded lust set my whole skin ablaze, his voice dropping in a lower, deeper cadence.

"I'd start with your mouth, and finish with… well, if I had my way, I wouldn't finish. I'd have all of you, all the time." His fingers flexed restlessly against my waist, as if he wanted to touch me elsewhere but controlled himself. "Not right now though. When you're ready. When you say the word, I'll do everything you want me to do. And I'm going to make you mine. All night long," he promised hoarsely. "I'll take care of you, beastie. I'll do things you'll never forget."

Warmth spread through me, his words sending shivers of delight in my body and an expected thrill of expectation.

Reaching up, I tugged his shirt impatiently. "Start with the first," I ordered, tense and breathless. I felt that if he didn't kiss me in the next three seconds, I'd spontaneously combust. "I need that right now. Give me that. Please… kiss me."

Looking in his eyes, I saw the exact second he made his decision, and I stopped breathing altogether as he moved his hand into my hair, tugging at the roots. He looked at me with such raw need that my heart skipped a beat. He leaned down, his mouth lingering just above mine, sweet warm air fanning over my face as time stopped.

"Using that tone of voice on me isn't fair," he said, locking eyes with me. "Not even the least bit of fucking fair."

Suddenly, the space between our lips was gone and he was kissing me, hard and greedy, a rough sound of pleasure vibrating from his chest into mine. Desperation surged through me, a need for him I couldn't control or fight, and I kissed him back as if I couldn't stop. His mouth opened with a sharp inhale, and the slow teasing sweep of his tongue on mine made me crazy. I distantly registered my hands moving down his chest; then my fingers were on his waistband, yanking his hips to mine. Wanting him closer.

He grunted softly in surprise, then picked me up by my thighs and urged my legs around his waist, kissing me deeper. I gasped into his mouth and dropped the fleece blanket off my shoulders, anchoring my hands in his hair instead. He sat me down at the railing, keeping me balanced with his steely arm banded around my back. He held me close, even closer, if it was even possible, encircling my body with his arms that wrapped around me as vines around a pillar, transferring his raging heartbeats into my chest, as if echoing his last promise to never let me go.

The danger of my position on the balcony's railing fifty floors high above the ground, the wisps of the icy night wind coming from the bottom across my flushed skin, and the feel of his body pressed tightly into mine, drove me wild. He felt so good under my hands. So right. My world narrowed to just him. The feel of him. The taste of him. The throaty sounds he made.

His arm pressed, arching my back. His fist in my hair tightened, tilting my head up as his ardent mouth attacked my throat. Electricity swept across my skin. My body sparked to life, shivering when his teeth traced that wildly throbbing vein in my neck, his other hand gripping the back of my knee, sliding upward along my thigh in a firmly possessive glide. When his head lowered to my chest, I straightened and grabbed his neck to make him kiss me more. And in between his bold, aggressive bad-boy style and the inherent intensity with which he moved, I instinctively knew that any intimate time spent with him would be earth-shattering, soul-igniting, body-rocking time.

For the umpteenth time since meeting him, I realized I was quite possibly in big, big trouble. Bless seismic, kaleidoscopic, levitating danger.

And I fucking loved it.

A loud vibration started in his pocket. His phone was buzzing like crazy—he was clearly needed. I was slightly dazed when he pulled back abruptly with a curse, keeping one arm around me as he reached for his phone, flushed and scowling, his chest heaving. "Always a pleasure," he muttered grimly as he saw the caller ID.

"Who is it?" I grabbed his shoulders, my heart thundering way too fast and loud.

"Jei. Miles away and still a pain in my ass." He answered reluctantly, grasping the phone to his ear as if it were slimy. His voice was slightly out of breath when he snapped, "What now?"

"Oh my God," Jei's voice blared through the phone. "Jesus. Did you just have _sex_?"

Killua rolled his eyes a little. Then he looked at me with that intensely focused gaze that sent goose bumps racing up my arm. My face was hot, my eyes bright and hooded, and my hair was ridiculous. I'm sure it looked like Hagrid if he'd been electrocuted in a wind-tunnel, or, by Killua's hand really. He was looking at me as if he'd like to do very naughty things to Hagrid. "What do you want?" he asked.

"I'm with Rick now," Jei replied, "and your intervention is required."

"Wonderful. I'll grace you with it in an hour."

"I meant to tell you that your intervention is required _now_."

"I'm busy."

"Okay, well then good luck finding Rick again and convincing him to finally spill out everything he has some other night."

"Wait, what?" Killua bristled. "He's yielded? Finally?"

"Yes, thanks to my awesome negotiation skills. Be here before he changes his mind."

"I'm on my way." Killua irritably ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Then he came to me, brushing his rough knuckles down my cheek. "I'm sorry. I have to—"

"I'm coming with you," I quickly cut in. He raised his eyebrows. "I'm not staying here with Gon and his aunt. I don't wanna feel like such a stock-blocker."

"Okay." Catching me by the waist, he lifted me off the railing and set me on my feet.

I looked up at Killua and caught him staring. His eyes were gleaming with the mischief and triumph of a well-pleased poker player who won a risky pot without revealing his whole cards. "Keep looking at me like that and we're never getting out of here," I warned.

He smirked lasciviously, stepping forward and placing his hand on my side, above my rib just below my breast, taunting propriety and teasing me. He gave no words, just the tip of his nose as it barely brushed the top of my ear as he hummed low in his throat, sending vibrations and goosebumps through my entire body. He was silent, but his lack of words was saying way more than anything that could come out of his mouth.

Then he shook his head and pulled back. "Let's go."

* * *

The club where Killua was meeting Rick was pumping. Multihued lighting. Rock music raged on, songs sliding into each other. Music pounding with a primitive, seductive beat. The air was heavy with pheromones blasting from the flushed, bright-eyed bodies on the dance floor. Shutting their brains down. Wanting to forget their everyday cares. Searching for the power of distraction. The sultry atmosphere was one of hedonistic abandon where the shameless drive for casual sex that everyone around me seemed to exude.

Jei led us to a private booth. Rick was old-looking, terribly skinny, and he was one of those who wore sunglasses indoors. He had an unhealthy sunburn and a goatee. Overall, he did look like a traveler who lacked consistency in his life. He was sitting next to CeeCee. Killua walked behind him on the couch and tapped his shoulder.

When Rick turned his head, Killua had already disappeared and materialized himself on the opposite couch, crossing his legs. "What do you have? I'm anxious to hear it," Killua said with more weariness than a belligerence.

"Yuki, hi!" CeeCee grinned at me.

"'Sup."

"Not much. You're glowing!"

That I could believe, since I was radiating the confidence and vitality of a well-kissed female.

"I've given it a thought," drawled Rick. "And found out that I do have sufficient information to offer after all."

"Okay." Killua lounged on the couch with one arm slung across the back and met Rick's gaze with hard eyes. "This better be more sufficient than the broken arm I'm about to give you."

Rick's chapped lips provided that sort of smile that seemed to say, 'This is fun.' "And here I thought assassins weren't supposed to be temperamental."

"Wellll_…_" said Killua, spinning his phone with his hand. "I did spend significant hours of my week getting yanked back and forth by you like a yo-yo, so I'd say I'm holding my temper quite well."

CeeCee objected with a huff. "You knew from the start that Rick wasn't going to provide much so don't act like you didn't see it coming—"

She was interrupted when Killua held his palm out in front of her face in a classic talk-to-the-hand gesture without saying anything or looking at her. Her face turned beet red.

"I don't care what made you change your mind or why," Killua pointed out, looking at Rick, "quit stalling and finally give me something worth my time and we'll both be on our ways. Some of us have more to do than watch sand trickle through an hour glass."

Rick took Killua's attitude with effortless nonchalance, something very few people could do. "Pardon me, Master Zaoldyeck, but I'm a man of my word—"

"No, you're not."

"—but I tend to be selective in my honesty, which I don't offer just to anyone, especially in matters that concern men like the one you're looking for. Walls have ears_…_ and mouths. You're well aware how some secrets destroy when told. I've seen it happening before, and you Zaoldyecks, have a record in destroying lives because of secrets."

Killua sighed angrily. "Look, I don't speak 'boring crap', you're gonna have to translate that for me."

"I can't tell you everything," Rick retorted. "You'll take what I can give, but that's it." He shot me a side-eyed glance. "I prefer to avoid danger that might come of spilling secrets I shouldn't know."

My brow furrowed. "I need a drink."

I skipped over and ordered the world's pinkest cocktail and which the female bartender described as 'totes amazeballs.' As I turned from the bar with my drink in my hand, I saw CeeCee on her way towards me.

"Yuki!" she said between brilliantly white teeth. "We didn't get the chance to talk! How ya doin'?"

I warily eyed the way she stood in my way. "Jammin'."

Then she started to get really chatty. "I hope you know there is absolutely no hard feelings between us. I'm not going to shovel some shit your way or anything. What Killua and I had wasn't serious, and I'm pretty sure he thought it wasn't worth it, so I will never try any schemes to mack on him or anything vindictive like that to put foot in your territory or anything."

I nodded and smirked. "I like smart girls."

When I tried to move, she blocked me.

"I mean, I know that someone like you thinks that girls are always whining and crying over every little thing, and I don't want you to think of me in that light. I mean, we pretty much live around the same people, so you don't have to be so suspicious and wary around me. I mean, behind this very sunny personality of mine, I'm also a toughie who can take a lot of blows and suck it up!"

"Wow." I raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "Ghetto."

"I know right?" She beamed. "Besides, I really, really like you. You barely ever came to the Committee even when you worked for it and seeing you in person is just so liberating. I heard loads of things and rumors about you. Some are inspiring and some are just lady-parts-shriveling, but commendable anyway." She started counting on her hands. "Like how you've led a solitary life for years and carved out quite the reputation as a high-powered little girl who enjoyed being ruthless with the criminals she caught or how your signature was to leave them with a bunch of broken bones? So cool. Jeez… Look at me blathering! Is it creepy that I know so many stuff about you? It's just that you're one of the few young female hunters and I've always looked forward to catching a glimpse of you. You are just sooo admirable to me."

"Likewise," I said with a brittle smile. Then paused. "Actually, not likewise. I don't even know you. But, it's nice to be nice, huh? Now excuse me."

I sidestepped but she did too, blocking my way again. I stepped to the other side, and again she followed.

I tried to keep my face neutral as I said, "Okay, this is like the least fun game ever."

"Then I'll be quick." Despite the heavy upbeats of music around us, CeeCee leaned in to whisper in my ear. "I think girls should stick together, that's why I'm going to let you in on something. You didn't hear it from me, but somebody is paying a king's ransom to keep your secret safe from getting out. I don't know who, but I know they think what you're hiding is worth an arm and a leg. I'm just telling you to be careful."

Skeptic anxiety pooled in the pit of my stomach. I frowned at her when she pulled back. "What secret?"

"You know…" She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "The one you don't want Killua to know."

I froze, the sounds around me drowned by my roaring blood. "How do _you_ know what I don't want Killua to know?"

"Because you told me?" she answered incredulously, confusing me. "Well, technically, you didn't tell me. I guessed. I gotta admit, it was absolutely hellish to find out about that. I had to go through a lot of trouble and bribery to get to the heaps of confidential information—"

Starting to feel dizzy with confusion, I shook my head and interrupted, "Hold it, hold it. What the hell are you talking about?"

CeeCee huffed. "Look, I understand why you want to play the clueless card—I wouldn't want Killua to know either, 'cause, he will be very pissed at you. And him being pissed is not pretty. I only want to tell you so you could be more cautious about who you trust." She touched my tense forearm, and glanced around her. "Shit, I have to get out of here before he sees me. A piece of advice: keep your eyes open, especially for those who are very close to you."

And with that, she left me, disappearing amongst the masses of swaying dancers.

What in heaven's name did that all mean? Who was that man she was afraid of? Could it be that Illumi had gotten to her, too? But he wasn't a fool who'd allow the exposure of a secret like the Letter to someone so uninvolved like CeeCee, which means that she was talking about another secret.

Was I hiding some other secret that even I didn't know about?

I slapped my full glass back on the bar, my appetite lost.

Just when I thought things couldn't possibly get more perplexing, something popped to prove me wrong.

"Where the hell have you been?" Killua walked over to me. He looked frantic and edgy, punching numbers into his phone.

"I got a bit…held up. Why do you look so murdery? And who are you calling?"

"I'm leaving a voicemail for Gon." He held the phone to his ear. "Hey, Rick has spilled the beans. The truth that was right under our nose the whole time but it was a matter of shifting focus and we couldn't see it? That beans. Come over here as soon as you hear this. I'll text you the address." He hung up and grabbed my arm. "Come on, we're leaving."

"Wait." I jerked my arm away. "I gotta use the ladies' room."

He looked reluctant. "Fine, but don't take too long. I'll wait for Gon outside."

We both walked in different directions. But I wasn't walking to the bathroom; I was looking for CeeCee. I wanted to ask Killua about the truth he'd found, but I needed to find CeeCee first. I was sick of people dropping bombshells on me and leaving me with the wrecks. She got some 'splaining to do, and it would suck if she'd already bailed.

I was getting more restless by the second. This club was like viagra; everyone was sweaty and dripping with pheromones. I scanned the whole place, and no sign of CeeCee. Eventually I gave up, and went outside to find Killua. But he was also nowhere to be found. The curb outside the club was filled with drunk people and heavy-muscled bouncers trying to sedate the over-excited fake-ID'ed teenagers. Everywhere I stepped, there was a crowd. It was freaking annoying.

I made my way back to the dancing floor. The music of the nightclub was raging, songs sliding into each other, louder and angrier. There were bodies all around me. I was swallowed into the mass of writhing dancers, who were swaying to the grinding beat of the music and the sultry atmosphere of the rocking club.

An arm wound around my waist, pulling me back to a firm chest. Panicked, I turned my head and relief washed through me when I caught a flash of the silky strands of silvery white hair I loved. Sweeping my hair over my shoulder, Killua's head lowered to the crook on my neck, leaving a trail of phantom-like kisses on my skin.

Immediately, I turned and threw my arms around his neck. "I was looking all over for you."

His lips curled in a smirk.

I imagined his mouth forming the words, "Kiss me." Or maybe that's what my eyes wanted me to see. Didn't matter. All of a sudden, all embargoes were forgotten, all bets and winnings were wiped off my brain like a switch. My hands pulled his head down toward mine and our lips crashed.

Then… I froze.

Something was wrong. Very terribly, awfully wrong. Killua never kissed me like this. He kissed with everything he had, with strength and passion and hunger and love. It was the only time when he held nothing back, the rare time when he gave and exposed everything. He'd hold me tighter. he'd crush me hard against him. He'd take control, he'd be on fire.

This time, something was…_ off_. This kiss felt off-center and cold and dead. It made me feel nothing. No heat, no spark, no burn low in my belly. No invisible strings. No ripple of awareness that I felt by his nearness alone.

My hand moved down his body, trying to feel him. Seek that electric feeling of him. I didn't find it. Instead, I found something else. Once my palms rested flat to his chest, all my sharpened senses were abruptly on full alert. I felt something shift from his body and mine. Something volatile and vile. It made my aura prickle in alarm, thrumming my blood through my veins and waking me up to this alien feeling. His touch was the feeling of two similar magnets repelling each other.

His hand moved to my nape, and a violent shudder moved through me, like that one you get right after waking up from a nightmare.

His kiss was wrong. His touch was wrong. My body told me that this was not what it needed, that it craved something better than this. I wanted to be in other arms. I wanted to have a different heartbeat pounding under my hand.

I wrenched away from the kiss with a gasp of surprise.

This was not Killua.

It was someone else in Killua's body.

I backed away from him, and he stood still without any intention of coming after me.

Yep, this was _definitely_ not Killua.

I felt panic percolating inside me. His eyes were still watching me the more I moved away. I looked around the room and suddenly, the whole world was spinning and tilting, I had to clutch onto the nearest person beside me to stay standing. The lights were too shiny, too flickery, the music too loud, the dancers too fast. I shut my eyes, trying to stop the spinning, and pushed through the crowd. I was all but throwing people out of my way to get out. Out, out, out, just out of here. I was going to get sick.

Teeth grinding together, I scrambled toward the exit, bumping into people on my way. There were loud shouts around me, for me to watch out, to slow down and apologize, but I didn't. I clawed away… fighting bodies that squeezed me in… pushing my way through circles… urging my shaking legs to move… tumbling down…. I saw streetlights, and rushed toward them until I could inhale the fresh midnight air. It sobered me up, barely enough to realize I was on the sidewalk. My senses registered car horns, the smell of cotton candy coming from a loud vendor, the blur of rushing passersby, and my firm grip on the damp brick wall beside me.

I lifted my heavy head up the tiniest bit, the unpleasant motion slow and painful behind my eyelids, and I squinted through my blurry vision at the darkened street until I caught a glimpse of a an all-black silhouette. Killua's back. He was where I'd left him. Talking to Gon. Waiting for me still.

_What does this mean? What does this all mean?_

He was just inside the club two minutes ago. He was there, but not there at the same time. A version of him that was so different, so wrong-to-the-touch, so… _repelling_.

_What the hell was _that _about?_ _Did that kiss really happen? Or did I hallucinate the whole thing?_

_Maybe I only hallucinated the part where I saw Killua's face._ _Maybe I just came on to a complete stranger_.

_Oh, God. I'm a cheating skank. That's bad. That's so bad._

_But… also not possible. I _did_ see Killua's face. And body. And felt the hardness of his skin. _

_Hallucination_, I convinced myself. _It must be it_. _There's no way you would just respond to a random boy's proposition_. _The only way for a boy to get my attention is to be Killua_.

_Are you that mind-numbingly crazy? You couldn't possibly experience a seemingly real perception of something not actually present. That shit only happens in horror movies and badly-written novels. You know it felt real. It felt so, so real. The tingly feeling in your fingertips from where you touched him is good proof._

_Still, you're a bipolar, remember? It's easy for you to imagine strange scenarios, hallucinate and fantasize of non-existent things. It's happened to you before, it's happening to you now_.

_But it's been years since you've had one of your crazy episodes. You've proofed yourself. Known how to control and manipulate your emotions. You know this has truly happened.  
_

I groaned exasperatedly, shoving my hair out of face. I didn't know which voice sounded more rational. I didn't know what I wanted to believe.

The coughing was back. I bowed my head, getting it out, my hand steadying me as I resisted dropping to my knees and vomiting up my intestines.

My head was pounding so hard, I thought my brain was about to pop right out of my skull. My other hand reached up to the back of my neck, and I winced because my palm was too cold against my flushed skin. I pressed trembling fingers to my nape. It was throbbing, tingling, and it hurt so damn much. I felt like there was a blood-curling scream stuck to the back of my head, demanding release. I wanted to plunge my fingers inside and tear into it. I could swear there was something there inside my head.

I had no idea what was happening to me. I never experienced a headache that strong. Especially not strong enough to put me on the verge of fainting. I never, ever fainted in my whole life. I'd gone through a lot of things that would make most people drop to the floor in a squeamish or exhausted state, but I had never been the type to faint. Now a mere headache was turning my tolerance into a damned joke.

This headache was like banging your head repeatedly into a wall made of sledgehammers, looking straight and wide-eyed at the sun, listening to an unstoppable combo of hand drills, and being stuck in a roomful of crying babies all at the same time.

My hand went to my forehead, violently massaging my temples in circles. I walked and waved sloppily at a cab, pitching forward before strong arms wrapped around me and pulled me back.

"Hey! Yuki, damn it. You're going to get yourself run over."

My eyes snapped open at the barked chastisement. I knew that voice. I loved that voice. It was deep and smooth, with a warm rasp that bordered on acidic at times. It was the voice that made my stomach flutter when it lowered and sent shivers across my skin when it rose an octave. Right now, I was shivering.

I gripped his shirt when my damned legs sagged, and then all I felt was warmth, and arms, and lips on my forehead. Holding onto his shoulder, I pulled back and kept him at arm's length. "Killua," I whispered, my eyes squinting and blinking at his face. Working my befuddled mind into a twisted maze of confusion and uncertainty. I breathed in the right smell of him. Shoved my nose into his neck. Closed my eyes. This was Killua, _my_ Killua, no hallucinations this time.

A frown flickered across his forehead. "Yuki, what's going on?"

I winced. I had no idea what to say. I just hallucinated kissing you when you were somewhere else? He'd think I'd lost it.

Oh my God. I really just freakin' hallucinated kissing him when he was somewhere else. I had lost it. I couldn't be more of a hot mess.

"Killua, stop moving. I'm dizzy."

"I'm not moving," he said, trying to still my swaying. "You are."

"No, I'm not." I squeezed my eyes shut and fisted my hand in my hair, tugging to tame the raging headache. "Oh…whoa. Idonfeelsogood."

My legs gave out again.

"Fuck," he muttered, then pulled me tight against him; up and off my feet, chest to chest, face to face. One hand moved under my chin, his frowning face was in front of mine, concerned and unhappy. Somber eyes, looking into mine. "Yuki, look at me. Look at me, dammit."

"I'm fine," I said, not really knowing whether or not I actually was. I was really losing my balance. It felt like there was a one-hundred-pounds of weight inside my head.

"No, you're not fine." Killua loosened his embrace; hand on my cheek. Stroked and soothed; placed me carefully on my feet, making sure I didn't fall. I clutched at his shirt, and he hugged me to him. Whispered in my ear, "Okay. Shh. I've got you. We're going home."

I nodded, my eyes still closed.

There was the sound of hurried footsteps, and then I heard Gon's voice. "What happened? She all right?" he asked, tipping his head at me.

"I don't know," Killua answered grimly. "I'll check her out when I get her home."

Suddenly his arm was behind my knees and I was swept up into his arms. Wrapped up in his bad-boy ways and good-guy heart, was everything I needed and I felt a relieved sigh whisper through my chest. Everything was okay in the world again. For now.

In three long, powerful strides, he carried me to the parked car of the hotel. I heard the beep of the keyless entry. Quickly, Killua opened the passenger side door, and with excruciating tenderness, set me on the seat and buckled me in. He knelt and gazed into my closing eyes. "Rest, beastie. I'm right here."

With a brush of his lips over mine, he closed the door. I was asleep before he even got behind the wheel.

* * *

**A/N: **I could go on and on and keep you here all night but we have that annoying thing holding us back that is called life.

I know Mito has only one scene, but don't worry, she's staying with us for a while, eh. And one little edit, I gave Yuki one extra year to her age for necessary plot-wise reasons that are for later, so now she's sixteen years old.

Some of you guys asked me for the songs that I use/d for writing. You can find a long playlist in my tumblr, it should automatically start playing once you go to my page. The link is in my profile page in here. The playlist mostly consists of rock music, since it's my favorite genre, but there are other genres that might fit your tastes. You will find some funny tracks and some naughty tracks that perfectly suit this NSFW Kil. (I totally just winked at the screen right now.) As for this chapter, make sure to listen to _Don't Deserve You_ by Plumb. It's also in the playlist! And please review a song for me if you've got one. I always listen to music suggestions.

I've been bad at replying to reviews in the past month since I've been out of town and in a country that has a war going on (literally, bombs and guns and all that sweet stuff), but I'll get better at replying and don't forget there's an ask box on my tumblr if you want to say hi or if you have a question. I'm much faster there since I'm always online with my phone.

Stay sexy.


	45. Devil Gambles

**A/N: **Thank yous to my readers, reviewers, tumblerers who ask me the most random questions day and night. Ten chapters ago, we had an all-fluff chapter in the story's two years anniversary. Keeping with the tradition, and since last chapters were sorta heavy, _and_ since Christmas is coming, this will be an all-romance chapter. No drama, no angst, no teeth-gnashing scenes—Or are there?—just happy, sexy stuff.

My tumblr buddies who have read the teasers have an idea of what to expect from this chapter. It's a little bit on the hot side, tho not enough to earn a M rating. Why ain't you checking that out yourself already? Why the hell are you still reading my boring blathering?

* * *

**_46. Devil Gambles  
_**

* * *

_Killua had been driving for long minutes, but it wasn't long enough for his worry to fade. His thoughts had turned completely toward Yuki who was resting peacefully in the seat beside him. He'd probably glanced over at her sleeping face forty times in the past five minutes. Maybe more._

_All he was doing was bouncing back and forth between being thankful that she was all right and vowing that he would never let her out of his sight again. Just thinking about her drew his eye back to the passenger seat. He reached out to touch her cheek, but pulled his fingers back before they grazed her skin. He didn't want to wake her up. But he needed to touch her, so much it felt like a compulsion. He needed to make sure he was really with him and that she was safe._

_Irritated, he gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. He felt ridiculous. He was afraid he might wake up with ovaries tomorrow. He never wanted to feel this way about a female. He never wanted to feel this way about anyone, ever. This helpless, this invested, this emotional. He never wanted to lose himself in a person, because if he lost them, what would he be left with?_

_With his teeth clenched in determination, Killua kept his eyes facing forward. On the road. Even though his mind and heart were with the girl beside him._

_Yuki was sleeping in his bed when Gon returned to the suite an hour later. After making sure she was physically okay, he and Killua sat in the living room and chatted briefly about how the night went, business-wise. Killua flopped down in a chair, rested one ankle on his knee and gripped it tightly with his hand. His other hand was on the armrest, his fingers drumming restlessly on the leather. Gon crossed his legs and stared at his friend._

_"Killua, calm down. She's fine. No need to be nervous."_

_"I know. I'm calm. I'm more than calm. I'm peachy."_

_"You're only this chatty when you're nervous."_

_Killua gave Gon a look, to which Gon responded with a grin. He reached a hand out and slapped Killua's shoulder. "Come on, we checked her out. _She_ is peachy. She was probably exhausted and the club just gave her a headache, no biggie. Can I be honest?" He paused until Killua waved his hand in a gesture that said, 'Go ahead.' "I was more worried about you."_

_Killua was confused._

_"That's right," Gon said with a nod, "because I knew how you would feel, and I was right. And the proof is that even now after we know she is all right, right here and perfectly safe, you're still going insane. You can't go into Guilt-trip Zone every time a little thing happens. You'll drive yourself crazy."_

_Killua's gaze was averted, his face decidedly composed and free of expression. "That's because every time I lose sight of her, something horrible happens."_

_"That's not something you can help. Bad things happen all the time. And I know you know that, and that's not why you're mad right now. You just can't seem to stop what happened to Alluka from affecting your relationships. As long as you have these immense fear of loss and survivor's guilt, you'll never have a peace in mind."_

_Killua didn't deny that. When someone he cared about wasn't fine—in which case 'someone' was either Gon or Yuki—everything else lost significance. He couldn't stop feeling that he had to do something, anything to make them fine again. And if he couldn't, a stab of guilt would keep pricking his heart. That was how he felt tonight when Yuki was losing her balance in his arms. He felt as if he wanted to do anything so she could stand upright again, even if that meant giving her his own balance._

_The whole thing made him feel something not entirely welcome. Something that was an awful lot like a weakness. A weakness for her. It was the same weakness he also felt for Gon, albeit in a different shape than the one he felt for Yuki. Nonetheless, Killua hated both shapes. Weakness made him feel vulnerable, which was the worst thing he could imagine. Weakness opened him to pain and loss. He'd had enough of that to last a lifetime._

_"I'm going to check on her." He got up._

_"You checked on her two minutes ago," Gon interjected. "Come back here. You're turning into an obsessed man."_

_But Killua didn't listen, making a beeline to the bedrooms, but once he was at the threshold of the bedrooms hallway, Mito was there to stop him still with a hand in the middle of his chest. Her smile was knowing. "I was with her right now. She's sleeping soundly. Even drooling a bit. Relax."_

_When Killua didn't look convinced, Mito linked her arm with him and walked him back to the couch. He grudgingly let her._

_"Gon, have you told Killua the story of the blue lovebirds?"_

_Gon broke into a smile, fond by the memory. "No, I haven't, but I remember it."_

_Mito made Killua sit back on the couch._

_"I brought Gon two lovebirds when he was five. They were grayish blue, sweet and always so full of joy. One day, Gon took the female lovebird out of the cage to play with her. The male lovebird stopped eating, drinking, and even chirping. When Gon returned the female lovebird to the cage, the male lovebird was happy again. But every time she scooted a little bit close to the cage's door, he would freak out. Run after her and pluck her feathers to keep her from leaving. Just to never lose her again."_

_Killua looked down._

_Mito rubbed his arm. "It's normal to feel worried and protected of the person you love, but too much worry, too much protectiveness, isn't good for you. It certainly isn't good for her either. Sometimes the actions you take to protect someone is the one thing that hurts them the most."_

_Killua understood. Of course he understood. He'd lost someone because of it when he wasn't looking. He was afraid it might happen again the next time he wasn't looking. He would do anything to never feel that way again.  
_

_Then Mito poked Killua's arm, asking, "You didn't ask me."_

_"Ask you what?"_

_"How I solved the problem of the male lovebird who plucked the feathers of his little lady."_

_Killua asked, "What did you do?"_

_"The solution was very simple," Mito answered, "I opened the door of the cage."_

_Killua's breath caught. "She ran?"_

_"Not at all," Mito said, smiling. "She perched towards her little man and took shelter in him. She didn't escape, she didn't fly away, even though it was a lot safer for her to do so."_

* * *

"Who's plane this is?" I asked as I preceded Killua into the main cabin of the private jet.

"Mine." He came up behind me and led me further inside the cabin. He handed his duffel bag to a young male attendant who clearly looked excited to have Killua Zaoldyeck in person.

I eyed the amazingly spacious and opulent interior of the plane with a little awe. "How come I never asked you how you got so rich?"

His eyes took on a speculative gleam as he turned to face me. I let myself look at him for a second. Heavy boots, black jeans hugging his lovely long legs and an unbuttoned black blazer over a white v-neck shirt that was just the right degree of snug. He looked extra irritatingly handsome today. Partly because he seemed bright and happy about the vacation, and mostly because he was wearing a white skin-tight T-shirt instead of a black one. I couldn't fathom the effect that plain white shirt had on me. It made me think thoughts that made my face any color but white. Maybe pink, rosy, pale red, salmon, shell-pink… Yeah.

"Hmm. How do I put this _im_modestly?" He elegantly sat into the deep swiveling bucket seat, crossed his legs and started counting. "I'm a smart, quick-thinking, hard-working—"

"Here we go," I muttered.

"I'm not finished. Crazy handsome, crafty, richly knowledgeable, insanely powerful, reclusive yet so loveable hunter. Money practically begs me to have it."

My face went hideously blank and my hands went to my hips, my foot tapping impatiently.

He caught my look and rolled his eyes, then with a grin, he finally answered, "Poker."

"Are you kidding?" I blinked as I dropped into the seat across from his. The flight attendant came back to ask us if we wanted to drink something as we prepared to take off, then a man in a navy suit who I knew was the pilot entered, greeted Killua warmly, shook my hand when introduced, then he was gone. I went back to our topic when the cabin door was closed. "You got all this money by _gambling_?"

Killua picked up his glass of cocktail that started taxiing down the runway. "It has its highs and lows. It is a nasty and insidious disease when you don't know how to control it and do it moderately. If you use its benefits right and use it right, there should be no reason for you to go astray. Once you know when to stop playing and protect yourself with self-discipline, it's an inexplicable pleasure," he said, lifting his drink in a toast.

I clinked my crystal tumbler against his. "You count the cards, don't you?"

He smirked.

"You do! Wow. I thought you said you hated math."

"I did say I hated math, I didn't say I sucked at it. I was raised to be good at everything regardless of how I feel about it."

"Wow," I said again because I was genuinely impressed. "Always full of surprises. You're some kind of a catch."

He set his glass down with a sheepish smile that was so uncharacteristic of him. It made him look like the guarded, little boy I knew he still was inside. "I'm some kind of a taken catch. And by a girl who caught so many ruthless criminals other than me."

Delight skipped through me. "I'm sure you're her favorite catch."

He cocked that eyebrow at me. "I better be her only catch."

I laughed. "Do you still play poker?"

"No, I don't play anymore. Once I start something and like it, I like it to the very extreme. I don't have the time anymore. Why are you so surprised?"

"I just never expected someone who treasures his self-control like you to be interested in something so dependent on luck and chance."

"My family treasures self-control, I treasure self-awareness. I have an open mind and I work hard. You know the saying. Chance favors the prepared mind, and the harder your work, the more luck you find."

I absorbed the wisdom in his words and threw in a whistle for good measure. "I'm liking this vacation already."

His eyes sparkled. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I love how smart you are. Your brain hits more than one of my hot buttons." _But not as nicely as your white shirt does it…_

"What a provocative thing to say. Let's discuss more." He leaned forward. His voice lowered seductively. "How do I hit _all_ of these buttons?"

_Forever wear this white shirt_…"I don't know. Why don't you try?"

He fixed his signature slow-burn stare on me. "Is that a challenge?"

"It's an invitation."

"To try to get in your pants?"

I matched his smirk and glanced at my leather shorts. "I'm not wearing any pants."

Instantly, his gaze roamed appreciatively down to my bare crossed legs and boots, then slid up to linger shamelessly on the skin of my chest exposed by my button-down shirt. Finally, they met mine. "Okay, here's the plan. As soon as the captain gives the go-ahead to get up, I want you to head over here and sit on my lap."

"And you'll kiss me?"

His smile widened with his lips to the edge of his glass. "Senseless."

My belly fluttered. "For hours?" I talked to his white shirt. The idea of being so close to it made me nearly giddy with anticipation.

"For as long as you want."

"I will take that deal."

"Cool."

"Cool."

We resumed drinking, as if we both hadn't just penciled "long and hot make-out session" into our mental day calendars.

The plane leveled out and the captain made a brief announcement freeing us to move about the cabin. Quickly, Killua shot me a look that said, _Well? Come here now_.

Arching my brow at him, I unbuckled myself from the seat. He sank back into his, watching me like a panther contemplating its prey. I took my time, provoking him. "Stand up for me," I told him. He raised his eyebrows. "Just do it."

He did, raising up from the seat with that methodical grace I admired so much. Holding the lapels of his blazer, I shrugged it off his shoulders and draped it carefully along the back of the seat. Then I was hit with the full glory of the white shirt, which was exactly what I wanted. I pushed slightly on his shoulders, coaxing him to sit back down. He did, never taking his eyes off me the whole time.

Sinking to straddle his thighs, I adored the shirt. I went a little gaga over it. I ran my hands lovingly all over the soft cotton, admiring how the fabric tightly stretched across his torso and biceps in ways that made me bite my lip from making an embarrassingly wanton sound. I slipped my hands inside the v-neck gap down his ridged chest and skimmed across his strong shoulders before sliding back down to feel the shirt again.

"Jeez," he said. His breathing was slightly heavy. "You have a white-shirt fetish."

"I have a Killua fetish." I began placing tiny kisses on the delicious skin of his Adam's apple. He tilted his head back and I enjoyed the hum of pleasure he let out. Touching him was one of my all-time favorite things to do. His instantaneous response to my touch made me feel bold and beautiful.

"Okay, that's enough teasing." He grabbed my wrists in a white grip and urged me back to look at him. "Put your mouth on mine now, or else I'll have to find somewhere else to kiss."

I smiled and leaned down, kissing him slowly, taking my time. I had plenty of it since I'd left all my problems back in York Shin. I'd deal with them in a week. Right now, I had a time out of responsibility and reality and all the cynical voices in my head. This week was all about Killua and me, no one else.

* * *

After four hours of flying, the plane soared low over the impossibly blue waters around the islands of our chosen location. Once we arrived at the airport, Killua bothered with security checks and getting the necessary paperwork stamped, while I went to the waiting room towards the vending machine in order to get me a nice cold drink.

As I popped open my soda, I watched from the corner of my eye when Killua's keys slipped off his fingers to the floor. As he walked to retrieve them, something extraordinary happened. Every woman in sight—a mother of two children, the security attendant, even two old ladies on the waiting chairs—had their attention snatched and refocused on one singular sight. Killua had only bent over to retrieve his fallen keys, and the whole waiting room of the airport drew in a collective breath and stared at that particular part of his body.

_If eyes could rape_…

As Killua straightened up, all women let out a sigh in unison.

"Good lord," one of the old women gossiped to her other friend from beside me, still looking at Killua's ass as if she stared at it hard enough, the secrets of the universe would be revealed to her. I couldn't even be jealous. He had a fine ass. If any woman didn't ogle it, I'd think there was something wrong with her. "Even Narcissus himself would pause whatever he was doing to look at that young man. If God created that boy in his image, then A-men, I want to meet my maker now." She raised her hands like she was a part in a choir in church.

But the woman was dead wrong. Killua had nothing to do with God. If he wasn't the Devil himself, then he must have been created in his image because he screamed of sin.

To my horror, the old woman turned to look at me with incredulous eyes and said, "Oh, dear, please tell me you tapped that."

I chocked on my soda.

"Life's too short," she persisted with her thick tongue. Her friend nodded aggressively. "If I were fifty years younger, I'd ride that like a bucking bronco at the rodeo, with my arm thrown up in the air and everything."

I started coughing. _Oh my God_…. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the imagination.

Killua came to the rescue of the mental images in my poor brain. I registered his presence before I felt his hand in mine. "Let's go." He looked at the old women who were full-on staring now. "Ladies," he greeted them, with a smile that really wasn't fair. They giggled like teenyboppers and I could nearly see their brain cells misfiring.

It was sunset by the time we arrived at the beach house where Killua and Gon used to stay when they traveled around these islands. The bracing, salty breeze hit my face as we walked along the white beach sand. Killua locked the door of the house and we stepped inside.

The one-story house was small in that cozy, saccharine sense, enclosed on three sides with an amazing view of the shore line from the open terrace. I took in the décor—stony walls, hardwood floor, an open kitchen by the corner, a white L-shaped couch in another corner, and red fuzzy carpets.

We left the house and went to the beach.

"Okay, next question. Close your eyes. Don't peak," I chastised as my index finger drew my next answer over the damp sand. We sat side by side on the beach surrounded by tall palm trees, facing the sea and playing a game where I asked him a series of questions to determine how well he knew me.

The very cold waves kept sweeping by and ruining my writing since the ocean was relentless in a moody, untamed way that reminded me a lot of the boy I was with. The wind whipped my hair across my face and my butt was wet from the sand and it was pitch black except for the trail of the light cast by the rising moon but these imperfections made it all so perfect. Also like the boy I was with.

I was actually awe-struck—and a little bit wary—at how well Killua knew me. One would think he knew me for years instead of few months. I didn't know if he knew so much detail due to the fact that we'd been practically living together or because he was impressively perceptive or that he was simply too attentive to my little quirks. Whatever the reason, I liked it.

"Favorite candy," I tossed out.

"Hershey's Symphony."

"Guilty pleasure," I challenged.

"Squeezing spots."

I cracked up. "Pet peeve?"

"Whiny people."

"Favorite cake."

"Oh, I know this one." He kept his eyes closed and pursed his lips to remember. "Apple cream pie."

"Dammit!"

He opened his eyes to see the writing on the sand which told him all his answers were correct. He did a fist bump with a quite, "Yes."

"You're so fucking cheating."

"I'm so winning." His returning smile was so happy I couldn't not beam. "Stop trying to fail me. There isn't anything I don't know about you."

"Oh, we'll see. Eyes closed. What am I deathly scared of?" I smirked and glanced at him to make sure he wasn't peaking at the answer. He wasn't.

"Ummm. That would be…" His smile turned triumphant. "Babies."

"Holy shit! I mean wow."

He opened his eyes and looked down at the answer on the sand, which was indeed, _babies_.

"How the hell did you know _that_ one?" I complained.

Amusement brightened his eyes when he saw my haughtiness. A part of me always knew he enjoyed to get me geared up. "Remember the morning before Halloween when we sat in the hotel lobby to wait for the rented car to be fetched?"

"Ye-uh?" I said unhappily, hating where this was going.

"And remember what happened to you when that pleading woman walked over and left her baby with you for a minute so she could check out of the hotel? And remember how you started shaking and nearly bawled your eyes out? And how you held the baby like it was a cactus? And how you begged me to take her out of your hand because you said that 'it was _staring_ at you'?"

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. I wasn't that pathetic." _Oh, God, I was so pathetic_. "And I'm sure you peaked at the answer, because that incident is not enough of a reason to assume I am afraid of babies."

"Yuki, you held the baby like you'd hold a weapon of mass destruction. Which honestly I think you'd deal with better."

"Some people are just not made for kids, okay? Moving on!" I ordered. "Close those pretty damn eyes again."

He grinned and did just that.

I finished drawing and asked, "What do you think was my biggest mistake?"

His reply was way too quick. "Our first kiss."

That… was unexpected. I was shocked at his answer. And kind of hurt. "You regret our first kiss?"

How long had he been feeling like this? Had he been feeling like this about all of our kisses? Had he been wishing we never kissed at all, that it was boring and inexperienced from my part? Not that kissing between us had ever been boring. Suddenly, a horrible thought entered my head: what if it was only not been boring for me? What if he thought I totally sucked at it?

"I don't regret the kiss, per se," he assured me, smiling at what definitely was my freaked-out face. "You know kissing you is one my favorite things to do. I just don't think you should have done it."

That made no sense. "Why?"

"Honestly?"

"No, please lie to my face."

His smile widened because he also knew I used sarcasm when I was nervous. "At that time, I had a perfect plan of avoiding any physical contact with you before telling you the truth about me. So I promised myself to never get involved with you to avoid getting our hearts broken, and you ruined it all by kissing me. Do note that I actually warned you not to kiss me shortly after we met. I hinted that catastrophically bad things might happen, but you did it anyway. Now that you have, I knew I've got to have more. You made me want to have you, and I don't do well with wanting things to the extreme."

"Ahhh. Now I know why you sounded so constipated after the kiss." I could never understand how his mind worked. I frowned. "Wait a minute. If kissing me freaked you out so much, why didn't you push me away? Why did you kiss me back? Why did you kiss me again?"

"Because…" He shrugged. "You have a pretty mouth," he said simply, and my face went blank. "You do. You have a pretty mouth and I enjoyed the things that came out of it—"

"So you wanted to see what was in it?" I interrupted, which made him smirk. "You're so smooth."

"I'm just honest. I kissed you back because you have a pretty mouth. I kissed you again because you look prettier after you've been kissed. Simple as that." He stared between my eyes and mouth like he often did and I felt my blood heat up. But then he had to ruin it by saying, "Still a huge mistake, though. Look at what happened to us because of it."

I frowned and gave him a feisty glare. "Did you just blame me for all the bad stuff that's happened to us? Because of a kiss?"

"Yep," he answered, shameless. "You made us pass the point of no return and I wasn't going to be able to not want you like this ever again. I knew I'd never want to stop it; therefore I didn't want to begin. You made me take the greatest gamble of my life. So yes, it's your fault we got clobbered."

I scowled at him and his twisted logic. God, how did he always make me feel like slapping him and kissing him at the same time? "So your theory is, that it wasn't for _me_ kissing you for the first time, you would have never had laid a finger on me?"

"Exactly."

"Bullshit. Your self-control isn't that perfect."

He arched an eyebrow at me, looking offended. "I don't think you really grasp my level of self-control. I've shown the restraint of goddamned Dalai Llama with you. Our first kiss? That was initiated by you. The other kiss on your rooftop? Almost went out of hand because of you. Sneaking into my bedroom every night to cuddle in those little torture devices you call pajamas? All you. Looking at me like you want to molest me? You."

I flushed, hot and fast. I wanted to tell him that he was being overly-dramatic and full of crap, but I had a strong feeling that what he said was true. It was me. I was the one who lost control from the beginning. I was the insanely impulsive one. He was more in control, experienced, and sexually adventurous than I'd ever be. Not to mention that he always made sure to ignore his natural instincts, while I made sure to rely only on them.

_It's all me. I'm the problem.  
_

_Well, no more._

"Okay, fine," I said, completely determined. "I won't kiss you again, unless you ask me to."

_Please, god, let me be able to keep this vow._

His brows lifted in surprise. "It's not smart to make promises you can't keep."

"We'll see about that. Next question."

I was about to go back to my sand writing when I saw the predatory glimmer that sparked in his eyes as he leaned down over me, his lips just above mine, so close I nearly shivered. "Oh, this should be fun. You really want to play this game with me?"

"Yes," I lied, wanting nothing more than to lean in and kiss the smirk off his mouth.

"I should warn you. I was a gambler—I savor winning."

"I savor competing."

"Okay then. I'd bet that neither of us could last further than tonight, so let's make it more interesting." His lips curled into a devil-may-care smile before he said, "The first one to kiss the other, loses. If I lose, I have to do whatever you want me to do for the whole week we're here. How does that sound?"

"Tempting. And if I lose?"

"If you lose, you have to sleep with me tonight."

I stopped breathing. I blinked at him, surprised at myself because the nervous flutter in my stomach that I'd expected to feel never came, surprised at myself because I didn't see that part of the bet as me _losing_ anything… and surprised that I suddenly wanted to kiss him that much more now.

We stared at each other a little longer before I put a hand between us to shake up the deal. "For the record? You're an asshole."

He took my hand, but instead of shaking it, he yanked me forward, smiled, and raised his long, nimble fingers to my chin. "And you're mine."

I swallowed when he looked at my mouth and gazed at me with that look of his: as if I were edible and he could barely restrain himself from taking a bite.

"You know what," he lowered his voice in that way he knew drove me crazy, "I could make you even more mine. You just have to tilt your head and put your mouth on mine, even right now, and I'll take you back to the house and do whatever the hell you want me to do. And if the house is too far, I'll find somewhere closer. Maybe against that tree."

Dammit, he was better than I thought. He was like the soldier of seduction. A sexual savant. A princely peacock. Killua the Konquerer. Definitely dangerous. I wanted to bang my forehead against the wet sand. I felt like crying, or shouting, or hitting, or kissing, and I couldn't do any of those things. That was the first time I realized I was probably going to lose the bet, because now I started wondering how painful it'd be to have my back against a palm tree.

_Crap_. _Get a grip_.

_There's noway I'm losing this bet_.

"You're dreaming. You're so going down," I said, sounding surprisingly self-possessed. I could feel his eyes on my profile as I smoothed my hand over the sand. "Would you stop undressing me with your eyes?"

Leaning casually towards me, he whispered back, "Why? Would you rather I do it with my hands? Or teeth? I have claws, too." He saw the look on my face and cut off with a grin. "Okay, I'll stop."

"I thought you could never stop once you speak pervert." When he didn't say anything for a while, I looked up and saw him watching me with a smile. "What?"

"Nothing." He shook his head as if to clear it off some thought, then said, "I brought you something."

"You did? I love gifts." I loved gifts that came from my moody, unromantic boy.

He reached into the inner pocket of his blazer and pulled out a velvety leather box, setting it into my lap.

Cracking my knuckles, I dramatically prepared to open my gift. With cautious fingers, I thumbed open the lid. Nestled inside the box was a heart-shaped pendant like no other. A brilliant violet-blue garnet gemstone was encased with rope-like bands that were antique gold in color, just like my own necklace. It was bold and beautiful in a way that literally knocked the breath out of me for a second.

My gaze lifted to Killua's face.

"I know you don't like to wear extravagant jewelry," he said, gently untucking the chain of my necklace from underneath my shirt. "And I know you think that diamonds are 'gawdy over-priced rocks that are mined by the African slave labor.'" He rolled his eyes at my words.

I placed a palm over my heart, pretending to be incredibly touched. "Aww, you actually do listen to my opinionated, pretentious ramblings."

"Well, you do talk my ear off. Anyway, I didn't want to get something flashy." He took the pendant out of its tiny box and attached it deftly to the gold chain, next to my life-like other heart-shaped pendant. "But this"—he tapped the gem with the tip of his long finger—"is perfect. The color is so unique. Stormy blue. Bold and expressive. Reminds me of your eyes."

A smile teased my lips. "Most girls would swoon over a line like that."

"I only care about what makes one girl swoon." He leaned in and nuzzled my nose, making me laugh. He pulled back and looked at my new pendant. "Alluka had a thing for old, antique stuff. The Zaoldyeck's estate is the size of a small city, so it was too easy to find exotic things dropped here and there. Whenever Alluka found a random object that appeared to be older than a hundred years, he pocketed it. Sometimes it was hard to explain to him the difference between pricy antiques and just heaps of crap."

I smiled. "Were they at least as good as this pendant?"

"No, this pendant was what he was the most proud of."

That made speechless. This pendant was Alluka's. It was something that once belonged to Alluka. "Killua…"

"It's been in my pocket for five years. I thought that as long as I had it on me, I was holding onto the pain of his memory. Then I realized pain is not always the worst part. Loneliness is much worse. A part of me thought that I'd always be lonely, that's why I kept Alluka's memory buried with me somewhere. I avoided talking about him because I thought it'd save me from the pain. But I was wrong. It made me feel even more lonely even when I was not. I'm not lonely anymore. I don't want his memory to be buried anywhere. The best way to keep memories alive is by sharing them."

My hand found its way to his all by itself. His fingers immediately wrapped tightly around mine, making the thick veins coursing down his forearm more prominent. I traced them. "Have you ever talked to somebody about how his death affected you?"

He shook his head.

"It's time to talk to someone," I said softly, bumping his shoulder with mine. "And I'm your girl."

He smiled, but the smile conveyed more sadness than a frown. "Sometimes I dream about what happened to him… but my brain re-creates the actual event. Switches it around. Changes it."

"Like make-beliefs?"

He nodded, his gaze focused on the way his thumb drew circles on the back of my hand.

I absorbed that a minute, wishing I had the training or knowledge to help him. Instead, I could only love him and listen. "Are they changed in a good way? Or bad?"

"I fight back," he muttered. "I try to save him."

"And he still dies?"

"Yes, but at least I keep him alive as long as I can."

My gaze darted to his, but his eyes snuck away from my scrutiny. He turned his head away, feigning fascination with the ocean waves.

"You were only a child, Killua."

"So was he." His chest lifted and fell on a deep exhale. "I wish it were me who died instead. When someone you love dies, you're not sad and angry for them. You're sad for _you_. You're angry at _your_self. When you cry, you're not crying for the person who died. They're gone, they're at peace. You're crying for you, because you're the one who lost a dear person and you're the one who has to live with the hole they left you with. You're the one who is going to live with a constant feeling that something will always be missing from your life. You cry because it's missing. You're angry at yourself because you find out that you're at fault for not looking into that person's eyes the way you had to. You regret not spending time with them more often, not talking to them, not getting enough of them. You regret not savoring every moment you could have had with them, because you know that they've taken a part of you that you might never get back. The person who dies doesn't have to worry about how the world will be without them. You do."

His voice loaded itself with weariness. "If it were me who died, I wouldn't have to live with this, and he would be alive, making the world a better place or something. He and Gon would also be great friends."

"What about me? What would _I_ have done without you?"

His mouth curved into a faint, apologetic smile as he finally looked at me. "You would have found someone who deserves you. Someone more like you and less like me. Someone perfect."

I shook my head. "Perfect is boring and annoying to have to live with. I don't want perfect. I want crazy and honest and real. I want you."

He closed his eyes, and for just a moment I thought he let himself believe it. "Tell me you love me again."

Ridiculously happy by the request, I touched his cheek. "I love you. And I really want you to stop hurting yourself over what happened to Alluka. It wasn't your fault. You were both victims to your circumstances. I want you to stop believing that you don't deserve good, because you do. You deserve to feel this happy today. And it isn't going to be taken away from you. No one is going to be an Alluka. No one is going to run or leave. He didn't leave because he loved you. If anything, his love for you was what made him feel worthy and kept him going all this time."

He looked into my eyes and I saw something there that made my heart hurt. He looked stunned and…grateful. I felt a low flutter in my stomach and started to get warm. Reaching up his hand, he cupped my neck and ever so slowly, he leaned in until he kissed me. He pressed his lips to mine, firmly but lightly, and held them there. I waited for him to do something, to open his mouth, to move, anything, but he didn't. He was frozen still, applying gentle pressure to my lips, but even so, I felt something else there. A tenderness I hadn't felt before. It rocked me to feel something so raw from him. We broke apart, the intensity suddenly too much.

I pressed my forehead to his. For few quiet moments, neither of us said anything, perhaps trying to put ourselves back together. There was a minute of silence before I mumbled, "You lost the bet."

"I know."

"You caved."

"I know."

"You can't help not kissing me."

"Damn it, Yuki, I _know_. Obviously. Stop fucking gloating." His eyes went down to my necklace. "Do you like the pendant? I have nothing to do during my days besides hunting Gon's father down, spoiling you, and dealing with the bullshit of my past. Lucky for me, I like doing the first two." He looked up at me. "Do you like it?"

Instead of answering, I brushed his hair back from his forehead. "You really shouldn't have kissed me."

"Ah. I see what this is." Pulling back, he rolled his eyes a little. "Saying this to get back at me for what I said before. Good one."

"No. I'm saying it because I wanted to kiss you first."

His eyebrows almost disappeared into his hair. I think I'd actually shocked him and made speechless for the first time ever. He was very serious when he looked at me, and I was serious, too. I let him study me. He searched my face for doubt or fear, but he found none. Because I had none. All I was feeling was love and gratitude for him for caring enough to know me, even better than I knew myself. All I was thinking was that I wanted him to know all of me. I wanted him to _have_ all of me.

"Really?" he asked.

I got up and extended my hand for him. He stood, taking my hand. I canted my body toward his and fisted his shirt. "You lost our bet. I'm expecting payment right now," I spoke against his jaw. "You have to do everything I want. I want you to start tonight."

He took in a sharp breath. The surprise in his eyes faded into something darker. Hotter. "Let's get the hell out of here."

* * *

By the time we'd reached the beach house, I went inside to stand in the living room as he locked the door. He took his blazer off and hung it on the coatrack with his back to me, but I watched his lips part in an inaudible exhale that sounded vaguely anxious. Maybe someone who didn't know him wouldn't catch that subtle nervousness, but I caught it.

He swiveled, his eyes meeting mine, and I felt them, really _felt_ them all through my body. I watched the change in him. He'd went from intimately playful to intensely focused. I could feel the need radiating off him, sensed the desire tightening his muscles and sharpening his focus on every response of my body to his.

My pulse sped up with tingling anticipation, my breath coming short and fast.

Then he started toward me.

I stopped everything—stopped moving, stopped breathing, stopped thinking, because I could feel the world shift beneath my feet. All I did was stare as his long legs ate up the distance between us. He reached me with three quick strides, throwing his keys carelessly on the floor and shoving his hand into my hair. The other crushed me to him, then he was kissing me with a fine edge of violence.

We both inhaled sharply as something powerful and thrilling passed through us, filling the space between our bodies with a crackling current, sparking to life. I tugged on his hair, maybe a little more roughly than I intended, and he made a grunting sound that was a perfect blend of both pleasure and pain.

We drew back, just a little, and stared at each other. I looked for hesitation in him, self-protection or second-guessing. Signs that he might find the intimacy too confronting and panic. Instead I saw concern for me and overwhelming love, but that was it.

And it was enough. More than enough.

It was everything.

I clawed at his shirt, bunching it up, causing him to lift up his arms so I could take it off. He was so tall, I had to plaster my body to his and stretch up on my tiptoes to yank the shirt over his head. He could make the task easier for me, but he didn't. Instead he kept his eyes on my face, watching me undress him…expose him.

When the shirt was off, I tossed it aside. I'd admit that I was the tiniest bit sad to see the white shirt go, but the sight of eight squares of carved muscle leading into the V that dipped into his pants had me swooning.

Reacting purely on instinct, I slid my hands down the length of his torso, following the movement with my eyes as I went. He shivered and I heard him swallow. His skin felt like warm steel under my fingertips. I felt his heart pounding, faster than mine. His chest was rising and falling way too quick, and I knew that whatever I was feeling, he was feeling it, too.

I took the dangerous decision of looking up at him, and found him staring back, his gaze searingly intense.

He pressed my hands more firmly into his chest, and I had no strength—in my hands, legs, mind, or heart. I traced my fingers over the contours of his ripped, lean body: the mean scars; the firm mounds of his pecs; the line of every rib; the sculpted ridges of his abdomen. Like a connoisseur admiring a unique work of art that she knew might never hang on her wall. He was so beautiful, inside and out. He took my breath away.

I licked my dry lips in delight. This was mine tonight. This was all mine to savor and enjoy.

Just when I reached the waistband of his pants, he cupped my face and kissed me harder. I held onto my sanity as long as I could; then I melted at the feel of his tongue stroking slow and sweet over mine. The finesse he'd always shown was gone, leaving only wild hunger in its wake.

My knees. They were wobbly.

A whimper escaped me as I grabbed his shoulders to stay upright. He took the hint and carried me to a wall, restraining me against it. His palm slapped flat with a loud thud against the stone on the side of my head, supporting both our weights, his other arm rough around my waist. His body was fully pressed into the length of mine. Hot. Hard. Demanding.

"Have you ever felt like this before?" he rasped between increasingly desperate kisses.

"No," I whispered back. My hands went to his hair, sliding through it, tugging. "Never."

"Me neither, and that's a fucking tragedy." He caught my earlobe between his teeth, and I threw my head back, shivering, my chest heaving. "I can barely think straight. I'm assuming you're not looking for self-control?"

"Fuck no." I arched, curving into his hands. "No control needed tonight."

"Didn't think so."

"Oh, fuck," I gasped, because he'd moved down to my neck, his mouth opening, nipping and driving me insane. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Told you I'd have you using bigger words regularly," he panted as he walked me backwards before I realized I was moving until I felt my back hit another wall, closer to the bedroom.

I hooked my fingers into the buttons of my shirt. His hands pushed mine aside impatiently, then ripped my shirt open, and I could hear the buttons scatter away on the ground along with my inhibitions. Pulling back, he threw the shirt away and looked at me. His gaze fraught with such intensity and focus as it slid over what he'd just exposed of my body. His tongue wet his lower lip in an action so salacious and suggestive I could almost feel the caress on my skin. His eyes were darkening, the look of someone losing his treasured control, pushing past his careful limits.

The thought of him riled up made me crazed, so I kissed him again, a little wilder. I caught his head in my hands and angled it, taking his mouth the way I needed to, breathing in his quickened exhales.

Reaching blindly for my hands, he put his on top of them, guiding them to his chest in a silent demand. Happy to oblige, I raked my nails down the hard muscle.

He broke the kiss with a soft curse, his head bowing onto my shoulder. He placed his hand next to my head and leaned on the wall. He looked down at me with daring eyes. "Again," he ordered gruffly.

My ego exploded. He was so responsive to me, I loved it. Leaning in, I bit into his pectoral, just over his pounding heart. He hissed, his hand coming up to fist my hair. Tilting my head back gently, he kissed down my neck, and when his mouth connected with my chest, I pulled him forward by his hair. Urged him to take more. All of me.

He bent his knees, lined himself up for my me, reaching down to run his fingers up the bare skin of my calf, twisting my leg up around his hip. He pulled my hips snugly against his and ground into me and oh my God, I never knew anything in the world could feel so damn good. It was like nothing I'd ever felt before and I never wanted it to end. I felt like I was climbing to the top of a mountain and I was about to launch into space.

He grunted and his hand on my butt pulled me against him, letting me feel what I was doing to him. Letting me know how much he wanted me.

Oh, God. I wanted him, too. I'd never wanted anything more.

I was giddy, intoxicated by him in a way no drug in the world could ever match. I was beginning to feel better, more like myself. More in control. Stronger. Braver. I always found solace in the risk. Relief in letting go. Life in danger.

It was a something I was infamous for—recklessly determined and boldly challenging; the countenance of a girl who fearlessly accepted any challenge. In that moment, while I was in his arms, I was _that_ girl. The one who felt confident, and beautiful, and desirable, and I was all of those things because of him. Because of what he was bringing out in me. I felt as though I'd just made a deal with the devil, and I was sure I'd enjoy every moment of the ride.

Abruptly, he stopped kissing me and straightened my leg. I opened my eyes to look at him, panting and overwhelmed. His eyes were nearly black. His chest was heaving. He looked how I felt. Open. Raw. Ravenous.

His fingers moved down all over me, leaving trails of fire behind, until they went to the front of my shorts. He deftly popped the button open and yanked down the zipper, all the while never taking his eyes off mine. My breath caught when he sank to his knee before me, taking my hand and placing it on his shoulder. He removed my boots, tossing them behind him. Then he slowly started sliding my shorts down my legs, and I shifted my weight from one foot to the other.

His palms glided up my calves to stroke my thighs with so much reverence, I squeezed his shoulder and reached out for the wall behind me for balance. The sight of him on his knees for me was so much, I felt like I was gonna lose my mind. He glanced up at me with that emerald gaze and gave me a look that promised all sorts of wicked things. Straightening, he once again loomed over me and he was kissing me, his hands both in my hair, his mouth hot and frantic.

My fingers fumbled with his belt buckle. He helped me getting it undone.

I pushed him off me and into the bedroom's direction, unbuttoning the fly of his pants on the way. When I didn't move fast enough because I was too distracted by the new skin I found, he lifted me up haphazardly and urged my legs around his waist with one arm while using the other to tug away at the rest of our clothes.

Then, everything seemed to happen in a fast blur. Darkness and moonlight. Silk lips and sweeping tongues. Palms. Fingers. So gentle at first, then rougher. Hot breaths on my neck, followed by mouth, tongue, teeth. Clothes pulled. More skin revealed. The weight of him, heavy and electric…stirring all my synapses…transforming everything he touched into insatiable skin. Mouth and fingers, blazing all over me. Making me dizzy. Crazy.

My thighs hit the mattress and I landed on my back with him leaning over me.

The sheer volume of his bare skin against mine made me stop dead in my tracks, wide-eyed and gasping for air. I stared up at him, shock and awe on both of our faces.

He kissed my lips before kissing down my body, exploring all the parts he hadn't seen or touched before. I clutched at his back, feeling the tendons and muscles flex as he used his arms to move himself lower and lower. He moved languidly over me, fluidly, confident and self-assured, like he'd got a place he wanted to go, a place he wanted to take me, and he knew exactly how to get me there.

* * *

_In fascination, he watched her push onto her tiptoes to remove the shirt she was obsessed about all day. She had to plaster her body to his to take it off. He knew he could've helped her, but he could feel her chest pushing against his, he could feel her rubbing against him, and there was noway he was ruining that. _

_Once she had his shirt off, she backed up and looked him over. Unabashedly. She was not shy about it. She wanted to look. Her eyes were like switches, lighting him up, turning him on. Soon enough, her hands followed her eyes, covering every inch of his skin. Her eyes got a little brighter, a little feistier, and he was sure in less than a minute, he was going to have her against that wall. Her eyes dropped to his stomach, her lips falling open just enough for her tongue to sneak out and wet them. He gritted his teeth and had her against that wall._

_He couldn't wait to see what she was like when she let go. He knew she was hiding a wild girl beneath that sexy, severe exterior. _

_And tonight, he was going to set her free._

—|—

_She was lying in his bed in nothing but her necklace. She wasn't the first girl he'd seen like this, but right now, he couldn't seem to recall any of the others. For all his impatience to get her here, once he did, he savored every second and every stroke. Her skin was so soft, and it made him anything but soft. When it pressed against his, with his hair in her hand and with every part of her body in that palm of his, he only had one thought in mind: She was the best thing that had ever been in his bed._

_He licked over the small tattoo on her chest, and she moaned. It was a brand new sound from her, and he loved it. He wondered if he kept doing this, would she make that sound again? Or would she make other sounds? What would she do when it felt good, how would she respond when it felt best? If he did it right, could he make her sigh, shake, or better yet, swear? _

_He was going to find the answers to all that tonight. He was going to toy and tease and taste and test every theory. He was going to trace all the curves and planes of her body__ as if they were his roadmap to finding himself.__After all, this was his chance. This was a chance for him to not only let her look at him, but let her see him. The real him. No past, no future, no world. Just him. _

___He didn't have to make it perfect, he just had to make it right._

___He gave up on teasing and started tasting._

—|—

_She was boneless as he lowered her leg from over his shoulder and still breathless when he pressed slow kisses up her stomach to her neck. He bit into the sensitive skin right at her throbbing pulse, __smirking slightly when her back arched off the bed. __Watching her face as he brought her pleasure was like an experience. He always imagined it would be one of his utmost favorite things in the world. Turned out, it was better than he could have ever imagined, because the reality took his breath away. And so while she was still here on his bed, with him, and under his sweet mercy, he should just keep on making it happen._  


—|—

_He couldn't talk, he could barely think._

_There was only:_

_Push, move, grip, breathe._

_Breathe, grip, push, move._

_More, more, more._

_He was feeling too much, too fast, too strong. His heart was more naked than his body had ever been; full and obvious. In the past, he closed his eyes against the things he didn't want to see, he covered his ears against the words he didn't want to hear, and he hardened his heart against the feelings he didn't want to feel, but tonight… his heart was defenseless. He couldn't close its eyes or cover its ears. Every touch, every tremble, every thrust, his heart cracked more open. Wider and wilder, until all he could do was feel. Let himself go. Lose himself in her.  
_

_And it was the scariest, most wonderful thing that ever happened to him. He felt as if he'd taken the greatest gamble of his life… and won the greatest reward.  
_

—|—

_God, how she felt. How she made him feel. __He tried for a few more seconds to keep hold of his control, to be gentler, slower, but he couldn't; his body was the outlet for the intensity of his emotions. His need flared, trying his patience. It hardened his muscles and roughened his touches. And when she clenched harder on his hair, he took that as a cue, and unleashed himself for her. _

_Deep, hard, deeper, harder._

_But even as the low pulses started firing and his brain faded into a haze, she kept him grounded. Her voice. The way she whispered his name. The desperation of her fingernails in his hips. All of it. All of her._

_He kissed her and told her things he wasn't sure existed in words yet. He heard her reply in the soft noises she made in his mouth every time he gave more of himself over. Plaintive, needy noises. _

_He gave her more. All of him._

—|—

_There was that sudden, brief moment, a moment that lasted one second but felt like an eternity, where his rhythm would slow and he would pull back to look down at her. His weight braced on his forearms, his stringy hair falling off his forehead, sweat-damp at the roots where her hand was tangled, his brow furrowed in concentration, and his eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure, he would look down at her and see everything he was feeling reflected in her eyes: shock, joy, lust, love, awe, elation. _

_Like this, he was an open book, she was an open book. Nothing hidden or buried. No walls or barriers or masks. His eyes were blinded from seeing, and as much as he wanted to look away, he couldn't. Neither could she._

_And then they would have to look away—she'd close her eyes and tighten her fingers on the sheet clinging to his hip, while he'd drop his head in the crook of her neck and tighten his own fingers on the sheet beside her shoulders—because it was all too much, but not enough at the same time. _

_There was that one sudden, brief moment where he sure felt like he was falling in love with her all over again. Then the moment passed, and both that feeling and him were completely, utterly, desperately lost in her.  
_

—|—

_He could feel her sigh under the weight of him, couldn't move and didn't want to. They panted against each other, __absorbing the aftershocks and trying to gather their wits. __He buried his face into her shoulder and stayed silent, his breath gusting harsh and moist across her hot skin. She stroke his back, giving him a moment. Her mouth slid over the tense muscles in his arm to soothe and calm, until his grip on the comforter unclenched. Eventually, he exhaled, deep and shaky. _

_After a moment, he pressed his lips into her shoulder, then her neck, into her hair, before he grazed her ear. "So," he spoke breathlessly, "I guess you do like the gift."_

_She laughed, that damned adorable little breathless sound where her shoulders jolted and her eyes scrunched up. He loved hearing it. He loved even more that he could feel it too. He followed, his laughter husky because he was still out of breath. Just like that, they were back to being them__; silly and crazy and whimsically unpredictable. The only way they knew how to be._

_He pulled back, kissing the tip of her nose, eliciting a closed-eyed smile from her.  
_

_He lifted his hips to withdraw, to give her time to rest. But she twined her fingers into his taut waist, keeping him still. When her lips sucked softly on the underside of his jaw, he knew resting was the last thing on her mind. _

_He looked at her with a gleam of __surprise_.  


_"Again?" he asked her. He could go again. With her, he could go forever._

_She didn't say anything, just twitched her lip into a little smirk and pushed at his shoulders until he rolled on his back. She climbed on top of him, kissing onto him and breathing the word 'again' into his mouth._

—|—

___The pinkish-orange light of dawn was peeking from over the ocean through the open windows and they barely got any sleep.  
_

_He was lying on his back, feeling like he'd finally caught his breath. She curled into his side like she was born to be there; warm and naked and his. He __brushed the tendrils of hair that stuck to the sweat on her temples as she__ traced the scars on his sweat-sheened chest, like she often did when they lay in bed together. He didn't know if it was soothing to her, but it was soothing to him. Like every light sweep of her fingertip over each scar could take back all these years of pain. _

_Her fingers started to move more and more slowly until they stopped. Her breathing became so deep and even, he realized she was asleep. He knew she was exhausted, so he left her to it. Grabbing her hand from his chest, he lifted it to his lips and then set it gently by her side. He slid out of under her and off the bed as quietly as he could, but he still woke her._

_"Sleep, beastie. I'll be right back," he promised._

_It was so dark but he could see her very blue eyes open and focused on his, so he knew she heard him. She didn't answer, though. She just smiled._

_He made his way to the bathroom, cut on the shower to as hot a temperature as he could stand, then stepped inside. He let the spray pound down his face, hair, and chest, then many times later, he turned to let it beat down on his shoulders. Washing the smell of her off him, he went through his head were all the ways that he could avoid getting too attached to her. _

_It was too late. Too late after tonight.  
_

_He felt as though he'd ripped his chest open, c__arved out a huge chunk of his heart and left it with her__. __He knew she'd ruin him, and he let her do it anyway. __And God knows, he enjoyed every fucking second of it._

_There was no words that could describe how perfect this night was. All his life, he thought he knew what sex was, what love was, and the difference between the two. _

_Sex is primal, natural, uncomplicated. It'd always been a strictly physical act for him. Slides of skins, so fast, so hard, so hot it feels like burning up, like you're on fire. Glazed looks of helpless pleasure. Nails scraping, sheets scouring, limbs intertwining. Tiny whispers, sharp gasps, guttural groans, that were directions and requests. Slick, steady motions, smells of salt and sweat, hypnotizing burns in your bones. That is sex._

_Love is consuming. Destructive. Obsessive. Love was the small details of her, the little moments in the day that he recently started noticing. Love was how she sat on the arm of his chair just to be close to him. How she gave her little smiles for others but kept her biggest grins only for him. How she often raked his body from head to toe with her eyes, not very innocently, then when she saw that he'd noticed, instead of shying away, she'd give him the faintest, sly grin. How she embraced her femininity in a thoroughly unfeminine way. How she walked, head high, back s__traight, fire and power in her eyes. How_ forward and feisty she was. How brutally blunt she could be. How she seemed to like that he had trouble being blunt when it came to feelings. That was love.  


_With her, sex and love; they'd become the same to him._

_All his life, he'd taught himself to minimize his emotions and not feel as much. He learned to separate himself from his emotions to protect himself from the pain. But tonight, the floodgates opened. He'd never felt so many emotions all at once, his chest felt like it was about to explode. He'd never felt that much love for anyone. Didn't know it was possible. His heart felt like it was beating outside of his chest. _

_Inside hers._

_And it was all so terrifying._

_As much as he was afraid she'd break his heart when she'd eventually realize he wasn't worth the risk, he was terrified he was going to do far worse to her. His past would. Somehow. His past would push her away, and he would do nothing but watch her run.  
_

_Despite how mind-blowing tonight was, it didn't change how his brain worked. It just distracted it for a while. It gave that every-working brain something more pleasurable to think about than looking for all the ways the universe could screw him. Still, the distraction was addictive. If he had enough sex of her, he wondered if they could drown out his brain altogether. Would it make him pretend that he would be good enough to give her everything she needed? Would it make him feel like he could trust that she was his? That no matter the consequences of his past, she was going to continue to love him and not leave? _

_It was so tempting to find out._

_So tempting._

_Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. He more felt her presence than heard her. It was more like one minute she was in his head, the next he opened his eyes and she was standing in front of him. Naked. Sleepy. Needy._

_He started to speak, but she put her thumb over his bottom lip, rubbing it almost absently. He flicked his tongue out to touch her fingertip, and her mouth fell open a tiny bit, her eyes moving up to his. When he bit lightly down her finger, she gasped. He let her finger go. She trailed it down his chin, jaw, throat, then to a brutal-looking scar over his heart. She leaned in close and kissed it ever so sweetly. _

_He __reached out to touch her kiss-swollen lips and __frowned. Something was up with her. Troubling her. A weight on her shoulders. He couldn't know what it was, and he couldn't stand it._

_Then when she buried her face in his chest and her arms circled his hips firmly like she couldn't let go, he understood. She was just as scared as he was. Scared of not being good enough to keep him. Scared of his past and reality. Scared of secrets and truths. Scared of drowning too deep in him and not finding a way up to breathe. __He didn't know what to say, so he just hugged her back for a long minute beneath the warm stream. Stroked her hair. Took care.  
_

_"Here," he said, moving her around until her back was to his chest and let the spray of the shower cascade down the front of her body…followed by his hands. "Let me make you feel better."_

_Laying her head back on his shoulder, she closed her eyes and let him._

* * *

I couldn't remember how long I slipped in and out of sleep, but when I opened my eyes, the morning sun was blazing through the wide-open terrace, the sea was a beautiful aqua blue, and the waves were flowing merrily over the shore. I slept on my stomach with my arms hugging my pillow, the ocean breeze sifting through the lace curtains, kissing my bare back and rolling the scattered buttons of my ruined shirt along the hardwood floor in a relaxing rhythm that put me to sleep again.

My body felt heavy and sated, even sore in the best way possible. I knew Killua wasn't next to me, because I could hear him moving about the house. But every few minutes, he would interrupt whatever he was doing to lean over the bed and kiss my cheek, my neck, my spine, on my hand, anywhere really. It was pure bliss.

The time I finally woke up and stretched, the room was empty. Though Killua's delicious scent on the sheets and that freshly bathed, boy smell was still there to brighten my day. I slid off the bed and pulled on my underwear. When I found the white shirt I loved laid on bed for me, the smile that stretched across my face could rival the sun streaming through the windows.

I was smoothing the shirt down my body when I walked into the living room and was presented with a wonderful sight. Killua, standing bare-chested in front of the stove and making chocolate for pancakes. He looked at me, his green eyes twinkling, reminding my sleep-addled brain of Christmas lights.

I made sandwiches over the other side of the kitchen while he stood behind the stove, so tall and shirtless and stirring the homemade chocolate. He looked like heaven. More so when he let me taste the chocolate off his finger. It's not like I needed chocolate when I was sharing air with Killua Zaoldyeck.

We shared lots of knowing smiles and glances that kept moments from last night fresh in my mind. Not that they wouldn't be otherwise. I knew they'd be fresh in my mind when I would be hundred and sixteen years old and couldn't remember where I put my teeth.

"More bread," I requested. He tossed the bag at me, and I caught it deftly, trying to contain my wide smile. I couldn't seem to stop smiling. It helped knowing that neither could he.

"We also need more sugar for the chocolate."

"I just saw some in the bag over there," I told him.

"There is none now. Would you get some? It's in the pantry over there."

I narrowed my eyes at him and said nothing about the the devilish smile he was wearing.

I set the jar of jam down, licking the blueberry taste off my fingers as I looked for the sugar. Finally looking at the upper shelves of the pantry, I saw the bag of sugar and reached to get it. It was just out of my fingers reach. On tippy toes I could just grab the edge of the bag with two fingers. I strained a little higher, dancing on my toes when the bag finally slipped some in my fingers.

I settled down and was just about to reach again when a hard thud hit me on the head, and then the fine shower of tiny granules fell over me like an avalanche. I let out a screech and waved at the pouring mass, trying to reach up to stop it. The waterfall of sugar ceased and I struggled to wipe my eyes when I heard a soft chuckling behind me.

My haughtiness worsened when I saw Killua leaning back into the counter with his arms crossed, and I knew with absolute certainty that he did that on purpose. Just to watch me make a fool of myself so he could laugh at me afterwards.

I glared at him as I sputtered, my mouth tasting overly sweet before I could speak. "Enjoying the show?" I asked tightly, still wiping the sugar from my face and hair.

He laughed and put his hands up when I glared at him again.

I groaned and dusted off the sugar that had collected under the shirt I was wearing—his shirt—growling when I realized the thin sheen of sweat from baking had made the skin on my arms and neck collect the sugar in thick clumps. Every inch of my body felt gooey and gross.

Then I heard more laughter.

"Don't laugh at me, Killua," I warned. "It's just making me more mad."

"You're sexy when you're mad, beastie," he said, leaving the stove and stepping closer to me. "So I don't really want to stop laughing at you."

I lifted up my eyes to frown at him and was startled to realize how near he was. One finger moved to my face, brushing back the strands of hair that clung to the perspiration on my skin, bringing back recent memories.

"You're even sexier when you pout," he whispered, because he was so close he didn't need to speak any louder. Lowering his head, he pressed his lips to the spot beneath my nose, the tip of his tongue poking out to collect the smear of sugar that dotted the curve of my upper lip. He pulled away with a grin.

"What?" I groused.

"You taste sweet," he said and kissed me again, this time on the cheek. "And I thought you couldn't taste any sweeter."

I rolled my eyes with a smile, then pushed him aside to get back to cooking. He caught my wrist before I could move, one arm wrapped around me and crushed me into him. He was no longer smiling, but there was a look on his face I was becoming familiar with. A heat in his eyes. Dark and dangerous, with the ability to burn me up if I wasn't careful.

He pressed his face into the crook of my neck with a low, deep murmur of delight. His hair tickled my cheek and my hands clenched at his waist. My neck arched as his lips drifted across my throat, his chest expanding against mine when he inhaled deeply. "You smell like me. I fucking love it."

Pleasure radiated through me and melted my irritation away, my body going lax against his. Still I managed to say, "Aren't you hungry?"

"Yes."

"Then we have to keep making breakfast," I said breathlessly.

"I'm not hungry for breakfast." Pulling back, he tipped his head to look down at me.

My eyes closed of their own accord when he kissed my forehead and whispered, "I can't get enough of you. I want to take you back to my bed and stay there all week keeping this dreamy look on your face."

"Okay."

Smiling at my blissfully nonchalant reply, he reached down to scoop me up and carried me to the bedroom.

"Wait," I said and he stopped, looking at me. "I still have to clean the sugar off me first."

His mouth curved into what I learned was his playful smirk as he resumed walking. "I think I could find a way to take care of that."

* * *

_That night before they had to go back home, he took his time. He touched her so slowly she was begging him to go faster, but he refused. He wanted every inch of skin catalogued by his fingers and mouth. He wanted to commit every back arch and every gasp of pleasure to his memory. He didn't know when he was going to have her like this again, and he wanted to make it last._

_And he did, until the morning._

_Before she fell asleep beneath him, he kissed her with everything he had. The kind of kiss she was going to feel for days. The kind she would think about and go weak in the knees. It said, 'I'm yours,' and 'I'm grateful to you,' and if he did just right, it said, 'I love you.'_

_When he was done, she looked dazed._

_And beautiful._

_And hopeful._

_And for the first time ever, she looked at him and truly saw him._

* * *

It was Christmas Eve. in York Shin when Killua and I stood before the classic shingle-covered Victorian mansion of Zymiral, the supposedly biggest mafia bosses in the city, where his masquerade party would start later tonight. The mansion was at least three stories, with wraparound decks and balconies on the front and sides.

I tipped my head back, pointing at one of the windows. "Are you sure that _this_ is the window to the surveillance room? Are you even sure there _is_ a surveillance room?"

With his hands on his hips, Killua gave me a hard glance. "You do realize you're talking to a reformed, professional assassin, right? I know my way around mafia mansions. I practically lived in them. I know their interior design so well, I could virtually engineer—"

"You're a kick-ass, ex-assassin extraordinaire. Whoopty-doo. I get it."

Reaching behind me, I tied the masquerade mask back over my head, careful not to muss the stylish bump I'd spend hours teasing and choking on hairspray in order to perfect. I wore my hair pin straight and bit it back with a black ribbon. I put on a black lace sheath mini-dress that had a satin bow and a strapless bustier bodice. I went with smoky gray for my eyes and dark red for my lips to feel more Christmas-y. I looked older, more polished, edgier, ready to crash a mafia party and kidnap its boss.

"Now, now," Killua drawled and turned to me with his open palm carrying two earpieces. "We have five minutes before we separate and I go on my way to break into the surveillance room and micromanage this little mafia party, so let's go through the rules again just in case."

"Not again." I let out an exaggerated groan. "Do I have to repeat them for the fiftieth time?"

"Yes. I'm listening." He raised an eyebrow in defiance.

I cocked one back in challenge, then sighed and robotically repeated the rules he'd made for me: "One, once I hear your voice through this earpiece telling me to stop what I'm doing, I stop what I'm doing—"

"Immediately."

"Immediately," I agreed through gritted teeth. Gee, having Killua as my boss would suck. "Two, I must never, ever take off my mask. Three, the second I smell danger, I run away from it, not _towards it_. I'm not allowed to get all thrill-seeking and Yuki-like, or else I'll be in serious trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

I hated that part. I glared at him, and in the most bored, disinterested tone of voice I could put on, I said, "The kind of trouble where you spank the hell out of my cute little ass 'til I can't sit down."

He nodded in pride. "Good girl."

I took my earpiece and attached it to my ear, smoothing my hair down to hide it. "Let me hear my rules for you."

He counted on his fingers and spoke surely, "One, I keep my temper in check. Two, I can't turn into an overprotective jealous freak just because I'm your temporary boss for the night. And three, I try my best not to perform any sort of a bloody massacre in this party."

"Sweet." I righted his black tie and slid my gaze over his suit.

Most suits made the man, and Killua had a body so perfect for them it had to be illegal. His jacket and dress shirt were both black with a subtle sheen. The costly fabric was perfectly well-fitted while the well-tailored slacks exhibited his taut waist and long legs. The all-back sophistication made him appear older and tougher all the way around; the look both so dashing and dangerous, he might have been a mannequin… or the party's Grim Reaper.

"Promise me you'll be careful, Killua."

"That's my line," he replied, smiling slightly. He caught my hand and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles once before he started to back away. "I'll be careful, as long as you don't let another man touches you." The warning was clear in his voice.

"You too."

"If a man touches me, he's getting castrated."

I laughed. "You know what I mean."

"I know." He winked at me. "Miss me."

When I blinked again, he was gone. Disappeared into thin air like a blown-out match.

When I was alone in the empty, silent estate, a sneaking nervousness niggled at me. Tonight, we'd uncover ugly secrets, and I didn't know what level of ugly they might be. Zymiral would be telling us the reason why he hired the Zaoldyecks to assassinate my family. He'd reveal the first truth to the mystery I was facing, a truth that, according to Cash's words, would change my life forever. I secretly wasn't so sure if I wanted to know that truth.

Tonight could either go really good or really bad. It all depended on how capable Killua and I were in working together despite being so mentally incompatible. Physically, we had zero problem. Our bodies always seemed to be in sync, even if our personalities weren't. If there was no physical contact, we'd most likely argue like there was no tomorrow.

Killua was always laid-back, masterfully self-aware and careful about crossing his limits, two step ahead of himself and the enemy, too focused on what was to come instead of what was happening now. I was the exact opposite of that; instinctual, spontaneous, and impulsive because I came up with plans on the spot. I was no schemer nor would I ever be one. I was the 'Fuck it, god I hope this works because I've glanced at the situation for about five seconds but I see few possible variables and I'll pick up the pieces later because I always do anyway, here goes' last minute girl. I was smart, but I wasn't calculating. He hated that about me. That was why we made these rules.

But we were wrong. I should have given myself a thorough mental pep talk before I considered making rules for him and me again.

Because by the end of this night, we would end up breaking every single one of them.

* * *

**A/N: **_Dun dun duuun_. Yes, as you can see, the Christmas masquerade mafia party will be helluva intense since one of the major plot-twists will be finally revealed next chapter. I think I'm gonna need two chapters to cover the whole party. Let's hope I'm inspired enough to finish the first part on Christmas.

Writing this chapter was really nerve-wracking for me since I don't usually write lemons/sex. I hope you enjoyed the little snippets from KPoV.

Anyho, folks, try to review? Not saying you should, just try. Not just my story, but any other story you read and like in this fandom. Even if you have to do it anonymously or on my tumblr, just let me know. It only takes a minute or two to let the author know what you think, because when we authors publish our work to be seen, it's like we're sharing something personal. We share personal pieces of our minds, and a good review is a good self-esteem boost, while the lack of it is just, well, kinda sucks. We spend hours writing one chapter just for you to read it in one hour or less, and while we love doing it to share the fun with you, we also love _knowing_ that you have had fun. Just try, okay?

Cheers.


	46. Author's Note

Hi, guys. This is not an update. But don't worry, I'll be posting the update in a few hours. You will definitely receive it today, or tomorrow, depends on where you are in the world.

This chapter is only here to regulate the chapter numbers. Let me explain. In case you guys haven't noticed, I deleted a chapter from the story, which messed up with the chapter numbers and lowered them to 45. I'm probably breaking the rules by posting this but this chapter will take the place of chapter 46. Fanfiction dot net doesn't allow you to review the chapter twice, that's why I can't post the new chapter under the number 46 because a lot of you might not be able to review it since you have already reviewed chapter 46. (Before the deleting) That's why, the new chapter will be 47 so you could all review it.

It's complicated, I know, but I hope it makes sense.

Love,

Lyra


	47. Reaper's Tango: Part I

**A/N: **As usual, tumblrers, fanfictioners, lurkers, thank you for the love you give this story. Last chapter got the most response here and on tumblr, you naughty derps. Every single username who reviewed, know that I like you and that you have made my day with your words.

Visit my tumblr for teasers, treats, questions, and updating schedules. The story has a fanclub now and the admin would be doing a liveblog reading for this chapter that I'm _so_ excited to read. There you can also find an interview done with me about TLN and writing in general. You can find the links in my profile or my tumblr blog.

Just a reminder that a time-jump happened. The Zymiral's party takes place at Christmas Eve, nearly two months after the events of last chapter.

Been a while since I wrote a disclaimer so let me drop one. I do not own HxH, but I do own beastie and this 17-year-old NSFW version of Killua.

* * *

**_47. Reaper's Tango: Part I_**

* * *

_"Have you done the arrows test today?" Wing asked, his voice blaring from the speakers of Killua's phone that rested on the dresser._

_"Not yet," Killua replied, buckling up his suit pants. "I think I can channel more than twenty arrows right now. It's like yesterday, when I was poison-free."  
_

_"Don't be over-confident," Wing chastised. "Remember, Killua, I've been helping you through the past three months because I know you make smart decisions and you know how to be careful. I wouldn't have agreed to go with your plan to forcefully push the poison out of your aura if I didn't know you could handle the consequences. You might have forced fifty percent of it out but you still have half of it inside your aura. That poisoned aura is still energy, but it's energy you can't use. It's like an infected leg; it's a part of your body, it's harmless when you don't put pressure on it. But if you do use it, you'll be met with excruciating pain."_

_"Don't worry," Killua assured, shrugging into the black dress shirt he'd had draped over his bed. He began buttoning it up. "I can handle it."_

_"I know you do. I also know you know that what you've been doing is dangerous, and if you slip for one second, it'll be harmful too. You should have let the poison wear out by itself. Forcing it out with nen was risky. And it's still risky as long as you have some of it tucked inside your body. I kept your plan a secret because I trust you, but if I found out you were being reckless with your safety, I wouldn't be able to keep the secret anymore. And you know Gon would be very angry."_

_Killua crossed over to the dresser, where his onyx cuff links were waiting. Amusement curled his lips. "Been there. He might punch me. Break some of my ribs. Nothing too scary."_

_"Killua…" Wing sighed. "You would be too weak for him to punch you. Have you forgotten that accidentally using that poisoned aura will result in weakening the body to the point of fainting? If you don't give me your word—"_

_"I'll be careful, Wing-san. I promise," Killua said. He picked a black silk tie from the closet. "If I had to, I'll only use half my aura, the pure poison-free one. I'm the sane one here. You don't have to treat me like Gon."_

_"I'm your teacher, I express my worry with advice and threats. That's my job."_

_Killua smiled as he looped the tie around his neck._

_"Listen, Killua. If you had to use your nen, make sure to stay mentally stable. You have to have full control of your emotions, thoughts, impulses, even your subconscious… In your condition, anger or sadness might trigger the dark aura out and push you into taking bad decisions."_

_"No one is getting angry tonight. Nothing can get me mad. I'll be as calm as a dead fuse."_

_"Not funny," Wing said, but there was a smile in his voice. "Talk to me tomorrow."_

_"Okay." After Killua pressed a button to hang up the call, he returned to the stand by his bed. _

_He paused at the footboard with his gaze set on the wall above the headboard. His arm raised, fist-clenched. R__ivulets of energy pumped steadily through his veins, his body humming to life. He felt the electric power tingle underneath his skin as he channeled it all through every tendon and muscle._

_His fist unclenched, and abruptly, an arrow of electricity was shot into the wall, the electric current steady and continual. It kept going; another arrow regenerated from the first one and shot into another wall, like it was reflecting on a mirror. Killua fed the current shooting from his hand, forcing more arrows to emanate from each other—one was shot onto the ceiling, one down the floor, the opposite wall. More than twenty arrows were surrounding him, sharp and buzzing with life, until he was standing in the center of a star-shaped open circuit of electricity. _

_Killua eyed them in approval. The more arrows he could keep, the longer they could last and the stronger he was. It was a matter of time before he could regain all his aura back._

_He heard the sound of heels clicking in the hallway._

_Quickly, Killua stopped everything he was doing. The electric current stopped, the arrows dying along with their source. The room fell back into its dim and quiet norm. In an instant he was standing before the dresser and fiddled unnecessarily with his phone, as if nothing had happened._

_He felt her before he saw her._

_She tapped lightly on his door, yelling out, "Are you decent?"  
_

_"Never."_

_The door opened to her grin._

_Lifting his head to look at her, his keystrokes slowed. His muscles relaxed. A sudden rush of peace soothed the agitation he felt whenever he wasn't with her. _

_Yuki leaned against the doorway, looking as ready as he was. Her longish black hair was glossy and straight, pumped up and pinned in a half-updo. She wore more makeup than usual tonight, the darker style she worked and her smoky eye shadow making her appear older than her sixteen years. His gaze slid over her features—the arrogant curve of her brows, the stormy blue of her tip-tilted eyes, the hot red of her pouty lips. Her dress was simple and small—an all-lace sheath in a prideful, gleaming black that sinfully hugged her curves and ended a few inches above her knees; with a strapless bustier bodice; a sensually open back, and a silky, slim ribbon belt in a hungry, deep red. Her toned legs were so long in her black suede stilettos. Her shoulders bared, exposing soft golden, sun-kissed skin. She had the beginning of a hickey on her collarbone______, a _reminder of bedsheets and laughter and how he started his morning_______—whoops_.

_She checked him out in the suit. "Wow," she said with the throaty voice that never failed to make his jaw clench in focus. "You really dress to impress."_

_His lips quirked. "On the contrary, beastie, I _undress_ to impress." _

_Smiling like the tease she was, she stepped into his arms and grabbed him forward by the shirt, her fingers fisting the fabric. "Don't distract me with your hot body. Makes me wonder: how long could it possibly take to get you out of this suit?"_

_"I don't know. Why don't you find out?" _

_She growled a little, and he laughed. Teasing her was too hard to resist. "I might never allow you to get out of this room."_

_"I wouldn't complain."_

_"Don't tempt me. We have a mafia boss to bother." She lifted up to kiss him—but suddenly stopped, frowning. Her fingers reached up to his clammy forehead. "Why are you sweating?" _

_Killua internally cursed. Outwardly, he shrugged it off. "Steam from the shower," he lied; then held his suit jacket under his arm and smacked her butt hard enough to send her forward a step. "Now let's go. And you'll remind me of the rules in the elevator," he said, and smiled when she groaned.  
_

* * *

I stood arms-crossed in the Zymiral's main kitchen that was the size of my parents' whole apartment.

In order to have a solid excuse of being at the party, I took the job of the head server of the waitstaff. They had already hired someone for the position as the head server months prior to the event. Her name was Vig and information about her was written in the papers Cash had given me. She was supposed to be here, but I might have paid her a visit last night and given her a reason to stay home for tonight. Oops.

The head server's spot was perfect for my plan. Zymiral was known to hire women to serve him through his events, because he wanted them to serve the purpose of becoming his hookers. The head server always had better access to the boss and his personal space, which was exactly what I needed. Keep your enemies closer, and stealing the gig of the head server gave me a good excuse to do that.

It would be an easy job if the waitstaff I was in charge for wasn't the slowest people on the planet.

They were ten in number, six young men and four young women. They all surrounded me like dogs huddling up on a cat ever since I had walked in here ten minutes to tell them that I would be taking their boss's place. None of them looked my age, and I knew my good-enough height didn't fool them to think I was older than sixteen. I was a kid about to boss them around, which made them look at me in a condescending and insubordinate way.

I had no time to win over their affections. I only had four hours max to win over the affections of the Zymirals. Four hours weren't enough to prove my competency and earn the respect of my waitstaff. Back when I worked for Neon and had to boss bulky bodyguards, I depended on my reputation to evoke reverence and respect. I earned that reputation because I showed no mercy. I was a nightmare as a boss.

That was how I would handle this waitstaff. Tonight, I was the Queen of Hearts. It was more convenient if they feared me than if they loved me.

"So… Vig is not coming? Is she okay?" one droopy-eyed guy asked suspiciously. He didn't trust me. None of them did.

"Yep. Just feeling a bit under the weather. Where's the checklist?" I held up my hand. The staff shared a glance, and I huffed exasperatedly. "Ground rule number one, when I hold my hand up, you give me what I want. Understood?"

A young white-jacketed man quickly passed a piece of paper to a girl with a mousy face who thrust it in my hand. I went through the checklist, making sure everything was present and accounted for. Pricey champagne, exclusive wine, and the world's finest cheese. They showed me through the refrigerators and cabinets until I was satisfied everything was on board.

"Okay, ground rule number two: do not talk to me through the evening. Unless you're served in a frosted glass, I have no interest in you coming within four feet of me," I spoke, my voice clear and mean. I was their boss; they were going to hate me anyway. Better give them a good reason to. "Do not make eye contact with me unless there is a disaster on the way. I have better things to worry about than your inadequacy. Rule number three: do not follow me around unless I call you over. In that case, you run over to me. Your only job is to serve as quick and efficient as you could. I won't tolerate strollers. Run fast or run home. Final four: If you want to make it through the night, don't ruin my dress or shoes. Or I'll make sure you pay for them. And not just with your life savings. Comprende?"_  
_

They all nodded mutely.

"Good. Now stand back and let me take a good look at you." I recrossed my arms and muttered, "You certainly don't have memorable faces."

One guy stepped up bravely. "My name is—"

I waved him off. "Yeah, I'm never gonna remember that. From this point on, you will all be named after Alice in Wonderland characters." I pointed at Droopy Eyes. "You are Doorknob." I named the rest. "You, buck-toothed, yes you, you're March Hare. Tweedle Dee. Tweedle Dum. You, mustache, c'mere. You're Walrus. Bill. Jabberwock. Crazy eyes; Mad Hatter. Hey, shortie; you're Dormouse."

"And you…" I finally reached the mousy girl on my left and regarded her with narrow eyes. With blond hair, itty-bitty waist and big butt, she looked like she could pass for one of Killua's flings. Suddenly, that was the only way I could see her.

"Your name will be Assquatch."

Muttered chuckles resounded in the room.

"But," she interjected indignantly. "There isn't a character with the name Assquatch."

"Well, they saved it for you, Assquatch."

Laughter got louder from the staff.

I slammed my clenched fist into the marble counter-top, leaving a spiderweb crack in the shiny coating. They stopped laughing. "I'm sorry. Do you all get paid to stare at me?"

They elbowed each other to quiet down and scattered about the room respectively to do their jobs.

I exited the kitchen through the staff door and walked on a plush, beige carpet that led to the hall/ballroom where the "party" would take place.

Walking into the lion's den, check.

Now it was time to poke the lion with a stick.

* * *

When I was by the bar, Assquatch approached me. Her heady face warned me of her rambling. "Ma'am. I delivered the welcoming wine to the guests sans mistakes…although one man pinched me. But…it's okay. I used to waitress for men who always pinched my ass." She slapped a hand over her mouth, realizing what she just said.

I tried not to crack a smile. Blurting out the word 'ass' to your mean boss? I saw some of myself in that girl. Even though she was probably older than me. But not taller. "You should get used to it. I bet Mr. Zymiral is a Pincher." I squinted at her. "And don't call me _ma'am_. Who are you, a child at my sons' school?"

"What would you wish for me to call you then?"

"Call me…" I paused. Nobody knew my real name here. Then I realized: nobody knew my real name here! I could get them to call me anything. Literally, anything. The nerdy child in me poked her head. "Call me captain."

"Yes. All right."

"Inform this to the staff. Whatever I say, you reply 'yes, captain.' Got it?"

"Yes, captain."

"The Easter Bunny is real and Santa is a pervert," I tested.

"Yes, captain."

I smiled proudly. "You can go."

* * *

"Assquatch."

"Yes, captain?"

"A bottle of Perrier and two glasses of Bloody Mary for the gentlemen over there with the kinky _Naso Peste Cera_ masks."

"Yes, captain."

"Try not to look tortured when you do it. Keep the _bon vivant_ smile on your face. And don't touch anyone. I'm pretty sure your blonde is contagious."

"…Yes, captain."

Oh, this was fun.

* * *

The earpiece in my ear beeped.

"_Beastie_."

I missed a step hearing the name he'd given me in that sexy rasp of his and a tingle of excitement quivered through me. I stepped over by a column and out of the way so I could talk. I teased, "I'm sorry. Can I be reminded of how I become to know the owner of this smokin' smoky voice?"

"You've been on top of my head and heart for months?" Killua flirted back.

"Nope," I played him. "Sorry. Doesn't ring a bell."

"You've been on top of _me_?" A smirk filled his voice and I smiled wide.

"Ding ding _ding_."

He chuckled, and I loved the sound. "Are you flirting with me, beastie?"

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No, I don't want you to stop. Whatever you're doing to me, I never want to stop feeling it."

I smiled. The smooth asshole. "What are you doing?"

"Wishing you were with me." The creak of leather sounded over the phone and I imagined him leaning back in chair. "I'd love to hoist you onto this surveillance desk before me and see how sturdy it is. Lay you out before me and make you scream my name."

I swallowed. My heart started pounding. I looked up over my head to the security cameras, not sure where they were but pretty positive I could feel his eyes on me. "Should I be worried about what got you so frisky in the short time since I was with you?"

"Watching you be all ballsy and bossy turns me on."

I bit back a grin. "You're shameless."

"And you love it. How's the party?"

"A success so far. Not sure about later. Random question: do we really want to find out why Zymiral's father wanted my family dead? You said so yourself. Some things are better left buried. Are we stupid for trying to dig them up?"

"No, we're not. You won't rest until you find out the reason. I know you."

I sighed. "I don't know. Maybe I prefer to live among the lies."

"No, you don't." His voice was soft, but certain. "Now, I want you to go back inside that ballroom, make fun of the boring mob weirdos and enjoy the open bar. It won't be too long before the party boy arrives and we snatch him away, take what we want from him, go back to the suite and celebrate our Christmas. With Mito-san's dinner and the tree she forced us to decorate."

"Yes," I said, loving him so much in that moment because he was looking out for me, making sure I was feeling good. "Okay. All right. I'll put my big girl panties on."

"It's okay. I don't find them necessary."

I laughed and my tummy did a little happy flip when I heard him chuckle again. "Everything will be okay," I convinced myself.

"That's right. Only a matter of time before we get this over with. And I'll take you home."

"Yes." His voice was so sincere, I wanted to believe him.

"And _then_ I'll make you scream my name."

_Beep_.

* * *

Soon enough, I started to get sick of everyone around me. I was watching them with my head leaned back on a wall when some teenage boy came on to me. And _flirted_. Sort of.

"I'll give you five million zennies if you dance with me."

Now I looked like a high-end hooker. Goodie. I side-glanced at him. "I'll give you ten if you leave me alone."

Startled, the boy, backed up, looking at me like I just refused a jackpot.

Those teenagers at this party made me feel ancient. It was there in their eyes, over their expressions, indifference, naïveté, innocence. None of them probably knew the truth about the horror of their family's job. They only knew they were rich and lucky. They possessed a detachment from the world. Some of them might think they'd had a dose or two of reality, but they really had no idea.

Champagne started to be served, assuring the near approach of the party boys. Assquatch served me a glass, neatly and without spilling a drop.

I let out a whistle, patting her on the back. "Good job, Assquatch. You almost made me want to remember your real name."

Her face lit up. The poor thing. I almost smiled at her sappy respect for me but caught myself and gruffly ordered her to shoo like the curmudgeon that I was.

A black-suited figure appear before me—the middle-aged head butler of the mansion. Enthusiastically, I called him out: "Hey, buttie! Do you know when Cain and Abel are gracing us with their arrival?"

"I said my name is not buttie. And no, it's not my business to know about _our boss_'s timetable." There was a note of chastisement in his voice as he glared me down. He did not trust me. Guess he didn't believe my little story of why I ended up "working" here.

"Sorry. One more question. Do you know why Grimm, Zymiral's little brother, has never been photographed publicly? Is he deformed? With severe acne or something? Bald?" I waited for an answer but he gave me nothing. Clearly, he needed prodding. "I'm just wondering how he looks like. He's so mysterious. Kinda hot."

"He will be here soon," he said curtly, walking away.

"O-kay." Thanks for nothing much? I tried to lighten the air. "I'll have you warmed up to me soon!" I yelled after him, but he still ignored me.

_Beep_.

Killua's voice was low and warm like syrup in my ear. "Stop squirming."

"Can't. I'm nervous. And bored. Where the hell are the brothers? Use the cameras and find out for me." I tucked myself into a darker corner so that people didn't pay too much attention to me practically talking to myself.

"I can't. The surveillance cameras are blocked on the Zymirals' bedrooms. I don't have the required code."

Ugh. "I don't care, press some buttons. Figure it out. You're good with your hands, as I recall."

Silence. I realized what I'd just said a minute too late. I cringed, cursing my verbal filter.

Even though I wasn't the one playing The Great And Powerful Oz, I _knew_ what he was doing.

"You're smirking, aren't you?"

"No," Killua said, with a smirk in his voice. "It's true. I _am_ good with my hands."

My ears. They felt so hot.

That was when he went in for the kill. "But I'm going to remove that dress from your body with my teeth."

Total collapse. I felt like a useless heap on the floor in a mafia party, and no one would care about me cause I died. Of embarrassment or lust, I wasn't sure, but I answered automatically without thinking. "You're good at that, too."

"I am. Would be a waste though. You know I liked that dress." I closed my eyes at his words, and he hummed in my ear. "You remember just how much I liked it, don't you?"

A blush flushed up my face and throat. "Yes, damn you, I remember."

It was two weeks ago when Killua and I went shopping for the dress I was wearing tonight. I tried it on and called out for his opinion. He stood in the dressing room's hallway for a long moment, his gaze raking me from my head down to my toes, before coming back to my eyes… and a dangerously cheeky smile spread across his face. A smile that I matched when he looked around the hallway and backed me inside room, closing the door behind us and pressing me against it. And then he proceeded to show me what closed doors could open for us—mouths and zippers and legs, to be precise.

I tossed back the rest of my champagne, wincing at the burn. Something about him talking naughty in my ear, when I was in public surrounded by dozens of people, made me excited.

"Hmmm." There was his syrup, rumbly voice again. "I see you're no longer bored."

I could feel my chest rising and falling too fast. "Don't…"

"Don't what? Don't make you think of me? Or don't turn you on?"

I released a breath in a whoosh. "Both."

He paused, taking a deep breath, and I felt cheated that I couldn't see what he was up to. "This is fast becoming harder for me than it is for you."

I smirked toward the cameras. "Stop torturing both of us then."

"Oh look. Seems like the boys have finally arrived."

"ٍShoot! You couldn't have warned me?" Straightening abruptly, I touched the back of my hand to my cheeks, hoping they weren't _too_ flushed.

"I could've, but this is much more fun. I have to go. I'll find you later."

With that sweet threat, he disconnected us.

* * *

Zymiral Jr. was the heir of Zymiral Sr., his father's business who died 'mysteriously' nine years ago. Zymiral Jr. was in his twenties, fickle, irresponsible, frivolous, someone who had too much power in his hands than he should. Billion zennies suits, luxury cars, vacation houses all over the world, parties and whores. He had quite the record in the criminal world. He sold big guns to bad guys. He smuggled drugs and alcohol. He'd been also suspected of sex trafficking women. All that mafia fun. He was always on the run being a bad boy and leaving countries to burn. The police couldn't get a hold of him, they eventually gave up. He couldn't be caught in one place, but this secret event was an exception.

On a normal day, I would be throwing his nasty ass in a cell where it belonged. A deal like this one would pay me the price of twenty designer shoes. Talk about sacrifices.

But tonight, I needed the bastard alive. In his head there was information I needed to know about my family's assassination. Cash said that if I knew that information, it would get easier to know why Illumi Zaoldyeck and his family were interested in me. What they wanted from me.

Cheers announced the arrival of the Zymiral brothers, and I finally got a glimpse of my prey. I couldn't see Zymiral Jr. very well, only his brother.

Grimm Zymiral was seventeen, standing 5'8'' in height with a well-built physique. Golden skin, high cheekbones, dark scruffy hair that hung just over his ears and styled in a casual disarray. He was cute, really cute, but that baby face wasn't going to make me soft.

His caramel-hued eyes scanned the crowd and passed over me.

I stared back. Offered a smile. Hello, Grimm. You and I, we would have so much fun tonight.

My senses sharpened. I could feel the tension rising when the armed bodyguards scattered about the room and watched over the brothers from a distance. Very subtle, very well-hidden to a normal person. Kidnapping, hurting, or even sniffing any of the Zymiral siblings was impossible without causing a scene. I couldn't afford erupting chaos, at least not before I got what I wanted. If I had to bond with Grimm to get to his big bro, I had to be discreet. Cautious. Seamless.

The moment the brothers crossed over into the room, Zymiral Jr. was surrounded by people eager to talk to him, many of whom were women. People called his name and he turned to greet them. Grimm slipped away, darting around the rest of the guests clogging the carpeted entrance. He snatched a glass of champagne from a passing server and tossed it back. Whoa. Did he look…tense. He went straight to the bar. The next time I saw him, he was rushing through the crowd with a bottle in his hand.

I discarded my empty glass on a table as I passed it and hunted the cub down.

Grimm Zymiral had to like me enough for me to use him. Wouldn't be exactly the most noble thing I did, but what choice I had. The mob cherished family above all else. Tonight, Grimm would grant me a meeting with his brother.

Back when I was on the road, I'd met an old lady who called herself Madam Bling, who'd instructed me in the art of manipulating men. In exchange for a large sum of money, of course, she taught me how to decipher the actions of males and read their body language. It was a handy trick. It had to help me tonight.

Grimm was sitting on the outer wall of the mansion, legs over the side, knees hugging the curve of the wall beneath him and a bottle of bourbon beside him.

I approached him from behind, quietly, taking precise care not to startle him. If this kid died right now, the night would suck pretty badly. He better not die under my watch.

I allowed my shoes to make a scraping noise on the stone of the balcony, wanting him to acknowledge me. He did—he jerked so abruptly I almost wanted to yell 'be careful!'—though he didn't turn around to look at me. He bent his head lower, his overlong hair, brown and matted, falling into his face. He was frowning harder now and I could tell he was in a mood.

"If you're here to tell me that I should be thrilled to be the second heir and I'm walking on a slow but bright stairway to heaven just by being Zymiral's younger brother, you can fuck off," he said, and I was kind of amused by his brusque honesty. The past hour was full of false niceties, untrue laughter, and plastic celebrations. Grimm Zymiral's annoyance was the most truthful thing I'd seen in this party.

I gave that honesty right back. "No," I replied with a shrug. "I met you like, three seconds ago, I have no idea if you're going to be thrilled and I can't imagine that you're thrilled right now. Especially not when you look like a party pooper. Which is, by the way, legitimate; this party is a fun-sucker. If you weren't the most bored person right now, I would judge you. Just like I'm judging everyone in this party. Including your brother. And I don't care about his stairway to heaven since it's not my heaven. I don't expect it to be your heaven either. And if this all makes sense, then I prefer nonsense."

He turned around, his eyes widening when he looked at me and saw I was as young as he was. His lips quirked up, then down, as if he wanted to smile but had to fight it. "You can stay."

"Good. Now scoot your ass over, that's my spot you're sitting on."

"Your spot?" Grimm asked, eyebrows raised high, but moved over anyway.

"Yeah, I've been roaming around this freaking mansion for an hour. How else am I going to pass time? You and your brother took forever to show up. If you choked on your bowties and died and got resurrected from the other side and did the dance of the seven veils, you'd have taken less time. This whole party has been boring as hell," I told him as I sat. "No offense."

He blinked his dark lashes at me, probably wondering who the hell this girl was who just showed up out of nowhere to talk his ear off. If so, he didn't seem to mind. "Why would I take offense?"

"Good point," I said. Time to introduce myself. Cue the lies. "In that case, you won't mind me telling you that I just came here since the head server, Viggy, got the flu and begged me to fill in her place and there is another friend in town that I didn't want to see and Vig told me I'd get to eat out of a pricy buffet and boss people around. What girl says no to a deal like that?" Look at that. I almost didn't recognize myself.

He laughed and then groaned. "My uncle spent too much money on this party so my big brother could introduce me to the world because I'm turning eighteen next month and here I am, hiding in a balcony."

"Your uncle? The tall, silver-fox type? The man who loves number eleven so much he wears it permanently between his eyebrows?"

Grimm laughed again. He had a dimple smile that was nice to look at. "Yeah." Then he grimaced. "Screw you for calling my uncle a silver fox."

"Don't blame me, blame your uncle for looking so good-looking at his age." Talking to him was easy. I hoped my plan go just as easy.

Grimm shuddered in disgust. "You have daddy issues, Pretty-but-Inappropriate Girl."

"I actually do," I said honestly. "Or maybe I just have a thing for silver-haired men."

He craned his neck to look at me. "So you're here to be the mysterious teenage girl who happens to be the head server of my brother's mob party who babysits the angry-at-the-world, sulky brother who happens to be me?"

I smiled and gave him more honesty. "No, Grimm, I'm here to kidnap you."

As I expected, he thought I was bluffing. "Go ahead. The way I feel right now, I don't think I'd mind some kidnapping action."

This sounded so sad, I scoffed a little laugh. "Okay, I'm gonna get further away from you 'cause I don't want that dark cloud over your head to rain on me too." I actually did shift away, and he laughed. "Why are you so miserable again? Let me guess: the classic story of the rich kid who's living the shadow of his older sibling?"

He turned to me, suddenly looking wary. He probably just noticed he was talking to a complete stranger.

"It's okay, you can tell me. You don't know me and you won't see me again after tonight. I'm the best candidate to know your most embarrassing secrets." I put a hand flat over my chest. "I have daddy issues. You have shiny-older-brother issues."

Grimm broke into a smile. Good job, me. The casual conversation approach was working gloriously.

He was sighing then, looking away at his massive garden ahead of us. "I'm just… tired of always being the second choice, you know? Don't get me wrong, I absolutely do not want to inherit the family business and live on the run my whole life like my brother does. I just want to be looked at as Grimm, instead of Zymiral's little brother who is second-best. Parties like this just fuels my inferiority complex. And makes me resent my brother a little bit." He grimaced again. "Just hearing myself say that out loud makes it more ridiculous. Whatever, anyway. To answer your question, yes, I am the rich kid who lives in his great big brother's shadow. I'm a walking cliché."

"You totally are," I told him. "Let's have a moment of silence for the originality of your existence."

We did. He wanted to smile through it, but stopped himself.

"So, uh…" he said, shifting uncomfortably. He was getting squirmy. Good sign. "Could I ask who you are?"

"You could." I smirked but that was it.

"OK. Who are you?"

"Just someone who likes food and broody boys in tuxedos."

Grimm rolled his eyes. But I could tell he was flattered. "I see you also like to be obnoxious."

"That, too."

"C'mon. For real, who are you?"

"I told you. I'm Vig's alternate. I'm here to boss those sad white-jacketed staff out there and get bossed by—"

"Don't say my brother's name," he pleaded. "Just don't."

"Okay well. I get bossed by _him_. The thing you share a parent with. Species _mafius_ _demonstrattus_ genus_ bastardus_."

Grimm started laughing, his voice thundering into the wind, shaking his head from side to side. "Wow… damn, am I a terrible person for saying that I actually enjoyed that you just called him that?"

"It makes me more terrible for saying it, so I'll say… no. Not really. I mean, raise your hand if you've ever made your little sibling feel inferior to you." I looked around as if they were more people with us. "See? No one has ever done that. We're both stand up, decent people, compared to others."

He nodded with a smile. "Yeah, I get your point. I don't understand what's fun about attending parties. How do people enjoy it? They're a lot of work. Making small talk is exhausting, smiling non-stop is a pain, ass-kissing, showing off, and conversations about business and people I don't give a fuck about is boring. If it wasn't for my father who made me swear to 'honor the family' the morning before he died, I'd put a big fight about attending. I mean, I'd rather be in my room with my gun collection and Oscar Wilde."

I wanted to ask him about his father because his death interested me. But I made a mental note to slip it in when he trusted me enough.

Instead I asked the safer question: "You have a gun collection? That's so cool." An uncomfortable in his own skin, socially inept, nerdy gun-nut? He sounded like someone I'd get along with. Which was a plus for me, because I needed the night would go smoothly. Grimm Zymiral needed to trust me.

"I design them, actually."

"Bull-shit! You realize how far that boosted you on the cool scale?"

"I'm alright." He looked sheepish as he said that, which made me smirk to myself. Squirm, Grimm. Squirm for me. Make the job that much easier.

"Know what? This conversation needs alcohol. A lot of alcohol." I jumped so my feet where on the inside of the wall and stood. "I'm heading back inside to get me a drink and mock everyone. If you want to make this party less of a fun-sucker and tell me more about your guns and books, you're welcome."

Grimm snorted. "I don't even know your name."

Dammit, Grimm. You were doing okay being a fool and trusting me. He was to think I was interested, not desperate, probably just a flirt. Boys dig the aloof and unattainable.

"Do you have to though?" I said. "I know your name because you're so popular around here, but if it came to me, I wouldn't ask for it. Names are just for the outside world, with the walls we build around ourselves. A word for people to call us. I don't want to call you, I want to talk to you. We're going to talk and it's going to be real, no bullshit pretenses. We're going to say whatever we want even if it's a place we don't want to be in. Putting a name to things only gives it limitations… expectations. We don't need that since you're not seeing me after tonight. You're only going to talk, drink and laugh with me. Be yourself. The real you that you hide from the world, buried under your name."

He didn't say anything. He was silent, staring at me, almost dumbfounded by my theories but interested anyway.

Make it look like you're indifferent. Make him chase you.

I turned around.

As I walked away, I heard the sound of his oxfords that signaled his closeness.

I smiled.

Owning with the lion's cub, check.

Time to lure the cub into the bear-trap and I'd be golden.

* * *

Grimm poured me another glass of wine.

"What is your fondest child dream," he shot out.

This had been going on for an hour, quick conversations between us with him mind-Googling random questions to discuss with me.

I polished off my drink, then said, "When I was nine, I had this secret dream when I was growing up. Move to a little village and run a bakery. It's so nineteen-century and different from what I do now, but I always wanted to save up some money and open up this little bakery of my own near the house where there are like books everywhere and green couches and fireplace and cake. I basically wanted to combine my cinematic background with my culinary vision. I believe that every girl has a little inner nerd inside."

Grimm flashed his dimple at me. "Why green couches?"

"Uhh, well, y'see, I had a bit of an alien abduction obsession."

"I guess that would explain it." He crinkled his glass with mine.

* * *

More wine.

"This or that: The hero or the villain?" Grimm suggested a new topic.

"Definitely the villain," I said. "I think there's something spine-tingling about someone who could kill, maim, and destroy, but chooses to do good. If you think about it, it's actually why most villains are more lovable than heroes in books and they're not lovable only because they're flawed, powerful, cunning or charming, but also because they are not just black and white; they are an entire color spectrum. They're _real—_like us. We don't relate to the hero's bawny way of dealing with things. We don't always do the right thing. We don't flash sparkly teeth and we don't trust—no, we lie, we betray, we fume, we keep secrets, we get selfish. We relate to villains because they're inherently part of ourselves. They reflect the complexities in our mind, because like them, we constantly have urges to overthrow logic and sanity. Like them, we have weaknesses. And at the end of the day, as much as we love villains, we hate to see them conquer, because we feel that them winning shows that the bad side within us has the power to corrupt."

"Damn," Grimm said when I was finished. "You're not just a pretty face."

I shrugged. "I've got a nice body, too."

That dimple again. "That I couldn't have missed."

* * *

And more wine.

"I told you everything about me," Grimm told me. "I read. I fly. I play Halo. My brother hates me. Your turn. Tell me something about yourself."

I set my glass down and gave him a hint of the truth. "What I can remember from my childhood was me living in a bedroom bigger than me. I've been living on my own since I was ten. I spent most my puberty alone in the wild, learning how to survive. Hunt. Skin animals. Stay alive. I had to fight for money because I was too proud to go back to my uncle and rest my case."

How would he and everybody else react to the real truth: 'My name is Yuki, I'm sixteen, and my hobbies are martial arts, weapons collecting, and torturing sleazy criminals for hire. I hunted criminals down for money and fell in love with one.' They'd probably laugh it off as a joke and whisper this girl was a weirdo.

"You were a solitary drifter? Like _Robinson Crusoe_?" Grimm laughed.

"Sure! How do you think I grew to have quite the tact?"

"Well, I want my money back, if our first meeting is any indication."

"Ouch." I smiled, taking a sip.

* * *

And more and more wine.

"I took a class in setting bombs once. It was fun."

I wrinkled my nose. "Is that a thing?"

Grimm nodded. "In our world it is."

"So you can make a bomb out of random things and we can set it here and watch people fly about and freak out?"

"Hell yes. My brother can stay to press the button and see if the explosives work." He laughed out loud.

"I'd volunteer your head butler too. He's a fun-sucker."

"But who would cook for us if we blew up the food?"

"I'd be the one saving all the cheese."

He chimed his glass with mine. "I like the way you think. To survivors."

"To survivors," I agreed.

* * *

"Shit," Grimm whispered. "Ten o'clock, my brother is coming our way."

"What? Why? Doesn't he have an underage waitress to seduce?" I muttered under my breath, then greeted Zymiral Jr., who was now standing in front of us, with a smile.

Just like his little brother, Zymiral looked very Italian. His wavy dark hair was longer than I'd seen it in his photos, his face more tan and his mouth lighter, framed by a stubble. The impression I got of him was too neat and mean, a man who assumed power by enforcing rules.

"Hello, brother. I see you _can_ talk to a girl after all, and she's not a fantasy," he said to Grimm—who rolled his eyes at the jab—and stared me up and down. "So. Who's this fox?"

"Just another girl who doesn't think you're a god."

"So she _is_ a fantasy," Zymiral sassed back. Arrogant prick. The atmosphere was charged with testosterone-induced rivalry, where Zymiral was the jock in highschool and Grimm was the glasses geek.

I introduced myself. "I'm the head server of tonight, sir." _I'm so ruining your night, sir_.

"A server!" Zymiral took the hand I offered and held it between both of his. The creep. "I love waitresses. They're hot, they call you sir, and they bring you food. How can you not fall in love?"

Grimm _ugh_'d. "Go away."

Zymiral ignored him, still looking at me. "You don't look very local, you look like us. And very familiar. Have you hosted at my other events before? Have I seen in you in a modeling agency? Have _we_ hooked up before?"

"Brother," Grimm scolded.

I matched Zymiral's cocky smile. "Believe me, if we hooked up, you'd have definitely remembered me."

Zymiral howled with laughter. He slapped Grimm's shoulder. "Feisty. I like her, Grimmy. She's got quite the pluck, and God knows you could use some."

"Please stop stalking."

I looked at Grimm as the relationship between him and his brother was playing out in front of me. It was very similar to the one I had with Gary—tense, snarking, strained, where no one admitted they secretly cared for the one another.

"Just beware, little brother, the pretty, sharp-tongued ones are always diabolical. Manipulators. After all, così fan tutte."

I quipped, "I believe you meant _così fan tutti_, sir."

That earned me an eyebrow wiggle from Zymiral. "Fascinating. Had an Italian nanny?"

"Mother," I corrected archly.

Grimm groaned. "Can you just go back to your hookers?"

"Chill out, Grimmy! Let me just tell your little friend one thing," Zymiral said to me. "My little brother has zero people skills. All he does is read and reflect on life but never lives it. Unlike me, I'm adventurous. And I refuse to live my life in a shoe box."

I arched my eyebrow. Right, because that massive estate you stole out in the west was too small for your giant head.

"Don't buy his nerdy charm, because that's his limit," Zymiral continued to push his brother further in the mud.

Grimm said nothing, running a hand through his hair. He was flustered. Frustrated. Maybe even embarrassed. I couldn't stand it.

"Actually," I blurted out, an edge to my voice. "Grimm has been the best company at this party. I'm having a blast with him."

Zymiral's smile was poison. "Come on, _bellissima_. You're a head server, but surely you can't be so naïve as to believe in that."

"You're a mob boss," I countered, "but surely you know when you're being a childish jerk." Then capped it with, "Sir."

The silence following my statement was tangible and seemed to last an eternity—until a delighted smile formed on Zymiral's lips. But his eyes were looking murderously at me. Whatever, I could have had the shards of my glass in his jugular before he even finished the homicidal thought. But I figured my smile was more painful.

"I like her," he told Grimm again, but his eyes were locked on me. "Let's keep her." Taking my hand again, he shook it, lingering for a second, then without another word, he walked away.

"Sorry about that." Grimm looked mortified. "And thank you. My brother can't stand being crossed. Right now, he's probably thinking of how he could kill you and hide the body."

I stared after Zymiral, fighting the call out the ridicule in Grimm's warning and tell him that I was the predator tonight. His brother was the one who should fear me.

My earpiece beeped, followed by Killua's voice.

"I'm sneaking into Zymiral's office for some pirating work. Wanna come with me and snoop?"

"You okay?" Grimm asked me.

"Yes," I said to both him and Killua.

"Second floor. I'll see you there."

_Beep_.

"Excuse me." I slid off the stool. "Gotta check on my staff. I'll be back."

"I'll be here," Grimm replied.

* * *

"Don't touch anything."

Zymiral's office looked warm and inviting, beckoning us to enter and read its precious contents. I could now see the valuable Renaissance paintings hanging on every wall; however, I was more concerned about what was waiting for us behind the magnificent masterpiece. I stopped by a painting of a man/devil/dragon/dog/god knows what with breasts and a face on his torso.

I shuddered. "That's disturbing."

Killua appeared over my shoulder. "Relax, Yuki, it's just a hell beast. Not a baby."

I shoved him away.

He wandered about the study and stood beside the desk, staring at a portrait of a pyramid and a war of some sort. I didn't know; I sucked at art.

"What's that now?"

"It's called _Battle_ _of Embabeh, _fought in 1798. A Napoleonic war," he said, almost to himself. I could almost see his mind working. Calculating. He was thinking, staring, touching a hand to the desk, the wall, staring at the door, studying its outline, the hinges, the handle. And I realized that I'd never seen Killua work before.

I tentatively touched the chessboard right next to the portrait. Killua slapped my hand away.

"I said don't touch anything. Some stuff might be laced with electricity."

I rubbed my knuckles because fucking _ouch_. Killua had fingers made of steel; rock-hard and unforgivably stiff, just like the rest of his body. "What are we looking for?"

"There's a safe behind the painting, but it can't be moved manually, so…" He approached the chessboard and I stepped aside. He played for both players; moved two pawns, then a queen, a knight, a bishop, attacked with the black, then with the while queen and… checkmate. The painting slid, revealing the safe.

Oh wow. "What did you do, exactly?"

"It's called Napoleon's trick. Known it since I was five. The mafia can't get more predictable if they tried."

That was impressive… and kind of hot. I rested my chin on his shoulder from behind as he tried to open the safe. "I am so turned on right now."

"Hold that thought. I'll find a dark corner when I'm done."

I bit his shoulder blade and he chuckled. Then shrugged me off and put finger to his mouth in a _Shh_ motion.

I had no idea how he opened the safe either, which had nothing in it except a bunch of papers, money, and a small iPad. Killua inspected it and found notes inside with dates at the beginning of each page. Diary notes. Zymiral kept diary notes. Just in case, Killua took his phone out and snapped pictures of some particular pages.

"Why not just take it?" I asked.

"There's no point. It probably has a self-destruction switch."

I snorted. "So James Bond."

"Yeah, if Zymiral noticed it was gone, he wouldn't hesitate to press the button. And did you just snort?"

We heard footsteps outside the office door.

Killua and I shared a look, and in an instant, he closed the safe and tucked it back into its secret place; I rearranged the chess pieces back to their respective order, and then he and I vanished from the room into the cornered en-suite bathroom before the office door was open.

I pressed my ear into the bathroom's door and heard the voices of the two men who entered the office. I recognized them as Zymiral and Buttie, the head butler. They were talking about something—or someone?—in hushed tones. Maybe Zymiral was bitching about me. I was slapping Killua's hands when he tried to push me away from the door. I gave up eventually and stood in the middle of the bathroom with my hands on my hips, waiting.

Killua turned to me, and I could sense his protective—and exasperatedly _bossy_—instinct kick into gear. For the next painful minute, since we couldn't make a sound louder than a breath in fear of getting discovered, we communicated through lips-reading, signs, and our weird telepathy.

He pointed toward the small window with his index finger, then toward the ceiling, which I translated to: _You need to jump down the window and climb up to the upper floor._

I frowned and mouthed, _Why?_

He rolled his eyes 180-degree at me, pointing with his thumb outside the bathroom door, then pointing to his phone, then madly wiggling his fingers around a metaphorical ball. I translated again, _Because I still need to pull the rest of the files off Zymiral's iPad and into my phone and take care of the mess we created!_

I shook my head. _I'm not going without you_.

_Yes, you are._

_No, I'm not._

_Yes. You. Are._

_No!_

His pointing became more aggressive. _Jesus fucking Christ, Yuki, why do you have to be such a stick in the mud about everything?_

_Come with me or let me stay here!_

Zymiral and his head butler were still discussing something outside the door. I really wanted to listen but I was too busy arguing with a Zaoldyeck.

Killua shoved both hands in his hair and almost ripped it off. _Can you do what I'm asking you to do? Once? _

_I can but I'm not gonna._

_Yuki!_

_Killua._

_Jump down that fucking window! It's an order!_

I crossed my arms. '_You can't tell me what to do when I'm not naked.'_

At that, he gutturally growled and put his hands around his neck in a gesture symbolic of choking—me choking him, I'm sure. Then he was moving, toward me, his quickened steps noiseless and alarmingly determined. Crap. He grabbed my upper arms and violently twirled me to face the window that he deftly slid open. _What are you doing? No, no, no_, I whispered as I struggled against his grip, _don't you dare, Killua. I will kill you. I will so kill you if you do this!_

"Off you fly," he whispered in my ear, chastely kissed my cheek, then fucking pushed me out of the window into the air.

Dick! I clenched my jaw as I fell to keep myself from cursing him into the wind. Thankfully, a second into my falling, I gathered my wits enough to reach out a hand. My fingers wrapped around the railing of the first floor's balcony, hanging onto it. I swung myself, pushed all my strength into my bicep and hauled my body up until I was standing stock-straight on the railing. I jumped soundlessly onto the balcony's marbled floor and lifted my head to glare up at Killua who was looking down at me, mouthing up to him, _You're so romantic._

I saw a quiet smile on his face before he pointed at the sky. _Third floor. Start climbing. Now._ His head disappeared back into the room.

I climbed up to the upper porch. Tested the handle. It was unlocked. I turned it, pushed the door open, and stepped inside a pitch-black room that had a piano in it. I was carefully closing the door when I heard a _beep_ in my ear.

"Zymiral is gone. You there yet?"

"Yes, I'm there," I whispered, adding very tightly, "And guess who's not getting laid for at least a month."

"Beastie…"

"Don't _beastie_ me. You tossed me out a frickin' window, Killua."

"After we get out of the mansion, we'll have a toast for the non-existent delicacy in the sucky boyfriend that I am. Can you go back to the party now, please? I don't want you alone."

Bossy, bossy. "Okay. Newsflash: starting now, I'm ignoring you."

"Good luck with that."

_Beep_.

My fingers flexed with the need to punch him in that beautiful face of his. Holding that thought for the next time I saw him, I located the door of the room and surged to get out.

As I took one step, I felt a barrel of a gun pressing to the back of my head.

I stopped dead.

"Put your arms up, Zaoldyeck Girl, and start walking," a man demanded from behind me. "Or I'll have to put a bullet in this cute head of yours."

Busted.

I kept calm.

"Really?" I did what he told me to do and wiggled my fingers. "That line? Really?"

He pushed the barrel further into my skull. "I wouldn't get sassy, sweetheart, especially not with the boss that I'll be taking you to meet. We want to make sure you do the job properly before dawn."

"I was hired to do a job? Nobody informed my bank account."

"You're hired now. Move." He coaxed me to move. Forced me to walk. One step. Another. He objected, "Too slow."

Moving swiftly, I placed my palms on the floor, using them as a leverage to back-kick his hand with my heel, sending the gun flying to the ceiling. I quickly faced him, caught his gun (which had a suppressor, I noted) and sideswiped his legs out from under him. He cursed, falling to his back. With my heel on his throat, I aimed between his eyes and countered, "Too cocky."

With a growl, he tried to catch my ankle but I pressed harder into his neck. Squinting my eyes in the darkness, I could finally see his features and my brows raised. "You? You're Leon's car buddy, Cash's sniper who also tried to aim at me. Huh. I can see how Dumb runs in your mafia family. How's Leone's bones, by the way?"

He started to hiss, "You fucking…"

"Ap-ap-ap! I know I just kicked your ass, but I'm still a lady. Have some respect," I said. "I also think you should stop moving, or I'm gonna have to stain my very expensive Jimmy Choos, and neither of us wants that."

He glared but kept his mouth shut.

"Good. Now tell me, what is that job you talked about?"

"The capo wants to see you to ensure you go with the plan Mr. Cash discussed with you before his death."

"What plan?"

"Killing Zymiral," he answered. You gotta be kidding me.

"Your capo is mistaken. That wasn't the plan Cash and I talked about. I did not promise to kill Zymiral." Leaning down, I grabbed fistful of his suit, picked him up like a rag doll and flung him across the room into the farthest wall. He managed to dig his nails into my forearm before I let go, hard enough to break skin. As he landed on his ass, I aimed the gun and blew a hole just centimeters near his head into the moldings of the room. He didn't flinch a muscle, his lips trembling, his eyes never leaving mine. "And, I'm not killing anybody tonight, unless your capo sends more assholes to annoy me. Okay?"

Swallowing, he croaked, "What are you planning to do with Zymiral, then?"

So Cash did not fill his alternate in with the information he'd given me—the reason why I was stealing a private meeting with Zymiral. I would assume he didn't want them to know. _Shocker_. I could see he had full right not to trust them with this. They were clearly not smart enough and could not take a hint. I really had no time to deal with their idiocy.

Walking over, I threw the gun in Leone's friend's lap and palmed his face. "When you wake up, tell your capo to stop chasing after me and explain to him very respectfully that he can suck it."

I slammed his head into the wall until he quieted completely, and I was left reeling after ten seconds of pure silence. This was a big hindrance. I hated to rush the plan, but now I had to deal with another mafia boss who was lurking in the corner ready to pounce on me when I wasn't looking.

Jesus, I was a doom magnet. Why hadn't Killua run away from me yet?

Oh god, _Killua_—

I noticed that the earpiece had somehow slipped from my ear. When I retrieved it back from near the piano's leg, it was beeping furiously. Then the next second, I heard Killua's voice echoing in the hallway outside.

"Yuki—_Yuki_—"

Once I hurried toward the door, he burst it open.

He stood at the threshold, staring at me, half-panicked, half-relieved. He strode across the room before I had a chance to say a word and cupped my face in his hands, his eyes searching me. "I heard a silenced gunshot. Are you okay?" he said. "God—are you okay? What happened? Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine." I rubbed his chest to relax him. His muscles were so tense. His heart was pounding so fast. "My earpiece fell off and just—I was the one who did the shooting."

Skeptical, he swept his gaze across my face, down my neck, my shoulders. Stopped at my forearm, where Leone's friend scratched me with his nails. Killua's wide eyes met mine. He was seething now. "Who did this to you?" Glancing frantically around the room, he spotted the unconscious man on the ground. He gritted his teeth and rounded on me.

"No, no," I said, tugging him back to me. "He needs to be alive to deliver a message. Don't worry, we're not discovered… at least—at least not by Zymiral's men."

Killua looked down at me skeptically. "Then who the hell is that?"

Shit. Talk about sticky situations. "That's… one of Cash's men."

His frown deepened.

I told him about that Halloween morning where Leon the sniper failed to take me down and I learned he was working for whoever was ruling Cash's empire now.

Killua's jaw twitched. He looked at me with a mixture of confusion and rage in his eyes. "You're telling me this _now_?"

"Well, between the Darcie drama, the poison in your Nen, our vacation, all the sex, and everything else, it kept slipping my mind! I'm not used to telling anyone about my agenda and I couldn't find the right time."

Killua shook his head. He closed his eyes and exhaled, massaging the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "Jesus, Yuki," he finally said, consciously calm. "There's no right time to tell me that an entire mafia family is coming after you."

My chest constricted in the worst way. _It's not the only family that's coming after me… _ How was I ever going to tell him about that?

"Go back to the party." He gestured toward the door, his gaze back on the man. "I'll deal with this."

"Okay." I hesitated. "Are you mad at me?"

"Just go, Yuki."

With a sigh and a heavy heart, I did.

* * *

I'd just made it to the ballroom entrance when Assquatch halted me in my tracks.

"Captain," she said, following me as I looked warily around the room. She was still calling me captain even though I felt like the rabbit in the room. The current boss of Cash's family was hiding somewhere to catch me and I had no idea how he looked like. There was this creepy-crawly feeling of being watched intently, but I could never spot my stalkers. They could anywhere, everywhere, hiding behind the masks. I felt like the only splash of color in an abstract painting.

"You missed the dinner buffet," Assquatch was filling me in, "everyone ate and complimented the service. Just now I served those chocolate mousse things without spilling anything over."

"Kickass."

"Really?!"

"What really?" I said, like a dumbass.

She looked concerned. "I think you accidentally gave me a compliment. Are you okay? Do you want me to get you something?"

Yes, some aspirin and a pit to fall into. "Where's Grimm?"

"At the bar. He was looking for you."

"Okay. Go do your job. And try not to live up to your hair color."

To my surprise, Assquatch grinned at the insult. "You're okay. Thank god. I was worried for a minute that the real you got possessed by your nice boring, self-righteous doppelganger or something." She saw the pointed look on my face and straightened. "Yes, captain."

She walked off and I stared after her for a minute, still bummed out about my night but thinking I might be starting to like this girl.

I spotted Grimm where I left him and put back my Imma-charm-the-pants-off-you smile though it was the last thing I wanted to do. "Hi, handsome," I said as I hopped on the stool next to him.

"Hi," Grimm said, beaming as he saw me. "Where have you been?"

"Making you miss me."

"It worked." He leaned towards me and used the same smile I was using, though his was actually genuine. "At least, I missed being the envy of every guy in the whole place."

Oh, Maylanta. The boy could flirt. "Ooo, that's so damn smooth. I'm impressed. If I were one of your brother's hooker, I would be naming our first child."

"Thank god you're not." He chuckled and poured me some drink, which I chugged in one-go. I talked to him for a few minutes, made him laugh, pretended everything was fine and dandy.

I stole another glance around me. Zymiral was busy with his socialites and crime partners. Smooth jazz music was playing. Masked men and women were dancing. Everything was going too well and I was there worrying about my stalkers.

If I could just know who was watching me.

If Killua could just beep me. It was pure torture sitting here and not knowing what he was up to. I'd left him pissed and standing in the rumble of the bomb I'd exploded in front of him. And I was still storing another bigger bomb for the future. Yay me.

Grimm extended his arm to me. "Would you like to dance?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Would _you_ like to dance?"

"Well, dancing is what a charming gentleman would do. Besides, you're pretty and I want to show you off."

I closed my eyes. Smiled. Shook my head. He was so going to regret liking me. "You know what? Yeah, I would like to dance."

Arm-in-arm, Grimm and I headed into the ballroom and stepped onto the dance floor. We moved easily, naturally into the music. He was a skilled dancer, agile and confident in his lead.

"Expect tango music after this. It's a tradition," he said. I could feel his eyes on my averted face. My mood was not so great and I was tingling with worry. It'd been almost thirty minutes and Killua hadn't beeped me yet. If I didn't know what he was up to, I would go crazy before the dance ended.

"No?"

I looked at Grimm. "Sorry, what?"

"I asked if you liked to tango."

"Ah." I shrugged. "Can't do it. I'm too left-footed."

"Liar."

My eyebrows shot up and he grinned.

"I'm sorry, but you're a beautiful liar. You're not left-footed. We're dancing the _waltz_, and you never glanced at your feet not even once. You're moving so fluidly even though you seemed spaced out. I say you're perfect-footed."

_Or a hunter._ "What are you, the Foot Detective?"

He gave me his dimple grin. "Or someone who enjoys paying close attention to you. Anyway, do you know that the tango is so widely acclaimed and yet banned in other places of the world?"

"You're about to nerd all over our heads aren't you?"

"Be nice."

"Okay. Why was it banned?"

"It started at the lowest places of society and it was condemned by the catholic church because people called it 'The dance of the Devil.'"

"Why would they do that?"

"Because the tango is associated with sin and seduction and skill; the Devil's specialty. It's rather a well-timed and highly-refined performance, a precise choreography. It's about control. Isolation. Chemistry. It reflects the Devil's nostalgia—speaking of his lost love, loneliness, rejection, hardship and unfulfilled dreams. The yearning of someone who will never fit in, never knew love, never knew passion, echoing what Bertrand Russell called 'the terror of cosmic loneliness'."

We stopped as the music ended. The silence that followed made me ponder his words, and I wasn't sure why, but they pulled at my heart a little. Grimm released me with a smile and kissed my knuckles, like the gentleman he was raised to be. The live orchestra began the first strains of a tango, the violin and the accordion drifting up from the dance floor below. I stepped back from Grimm and bumped into someone's chest behind me. Hands went to my waist to steady me and I looked over my shoulder to find Killua at my back.

"Hey," he said, his icy gaze on Grimm. "I'm cutting in."

It wasn't a request.

Killua held my hand, fingers wrapping around mine with surprising firmness. His body was rigid, six feet of lean muscle, his profile strong and steady. He was vibrating with energy beside me, although his face with calm and impassive. When I looked questionably at him, he said, "Time to make the Devil look good."

Grimm stopped and looked at me then. I nodded. He backed away with a bow, stealing one last wary glance at Killua.

As he led me to the center of the dance floor, I whispered, "Are you crazy? I know how to tango as well as I know how to grow mounds—_I don't_."

"It's just a tango. It's like sex, except with clothes on." His eyes gleamed wickedly. He had something in mind.

"Oh, god. You _are_ crazy."

"Shh."

"But I don't know—"

"You know my body. Relax and follow my lead. Let our bodies do it." He swept me into the dance floor in a flourish. I was rolling my eyes a little but shivered when he placed his hand within the cutout of my dress on my lower back, skin to skin, a shock of awareness moving through me. His arm went around my back, while mine was lifted by his hand. I draped my other arm over his shoulders when he stepped closer. Too close. Scandalously close. His cheek rested against my temple, and I sighed without meaning to. He sighed, too.

His arms. There was nowhere else I'd rather be.

He squeezed my hand, calling me to attention. He stepped forward into my space and I stepped back exactly enough to accommodate him.

He rocked a bit on his feet after the second step, moving my body with him with a ferocious strength, and I gasped when he spun himself backwards with a sideways lean, using only his touch to command me to follow after him. Dancing with him was so different. He had the expertise and agility of Grimm, but Killua also had the familiarity with how my body moved and a bold, intense style that was inherently sexual.

"Hold me tighter," he whispered in my ear. His hand sneaked lower and pinched my butt, hard.

I glared, and yanked him tight. Chest to chest.

He smiled his approval. "That's a good girl."

I allowed myself to be led, followed his movements, until I began to sense them. When he leaned forward, I leaned back. When he stepped back with his left leg, I followed him with my right. I tilted sideways and his body followed. It was as if there were invisible strings between us, tightening with each movement, perfectly synchronized. Eventually we were fluid, an extension of each other. It felt so natural, like I'd done this millions of times before.

He took his time twirling and whirling me around the room, seductively slow, never losing hold of me. Tightening his hold to anchor me so close to him. His thighs brushed against mine with every step, the front of him rubbing against mine with every turn. He flowed with the music, claimed it. Just like he claimed me with his gaze, his look fraught with such intensity and focus, his eyes so soft and warm. He glided me across the floor as if I were weightless. Possessed me. Like a true Devil. I felt the dancers clear the floor around us, watching, but he paid them no mind. Only me. His body whispered commands to mine, forcing it to respond.

We stepped and leaned and swayed, every movement perfect and precise, like an intricate choreography that we'd never learned, but our bodies remembered. He danced the way he made love—with exquisite control, infinite patience, and aggressive moves.

It was thrilling.

We were in the zone. The magical state where everything was flowing. Everything was open. It made me high. I felt good. Really good. And free.

His mouth curved in a lazy smile, then he spun me about in a vigorous turn. I smiled back as he pulled back into his chest again. He looked so handsome tonight, so harsh and older-looking in his all-black suit. I relished the opportunity to be so close to his scrumptious body in public, aware of the eyes on us. The admiring eyes on _him_. I smoothed my hand down the back of his sleek jacket, feeling like I had a special secret because I got to know exactly what he looked without his suit on.

I glanced back at Grimm following us with his eyes, quite _grimly_, from the bar.

Killua's head lowered, until our lips were too close. "Your boy is watching us right now."

I held his gaze. "The only boy I want to be watched by is standing in front of me, and jealousy looks damn sexy on him."

"He can see how you feel about me."

"I don't care, as long as you do."

He lowered further, until I thought he was going to kiss me… but he was suddenly dipping me low, though his face stayed only a few inches from mine. My back arched acutely and I grabbed at him instinctively, gripping his bicep. His sneaky hand slid down from my back to my knee, lifting my leg up to his hip. His fingers slipped under my dress to the point where my garter clipped to the top of my silk stocking, sending goose bumps racing across my skin. He cocked an eyebrow. "Don't you have something to apologize for?"

My eyes narrowed. "I do if you do."

"Fine." He straightened me back up and pulled me to him with a long step to the side. "I'm sorry I tossed you out of that window, but in my defense, you were being someone who deserves to be tossed out a window."

A smile crawled over my lips. "You suck at apologies, but fine. I'm sorry I hid the Cash thing from you."

He twirled me as I hooked one leg around his waist and brought the other one up. People clapped and whistled; he smiled at me and spun, gracefully placing me back on my feet. Then squeezing me closer: "Next time a mafia boss plots to have your head, it won't be too controversial to tell your boyfriend about it," he whispered in my ear as I stepped around his leg.

"I did the first time." My eyes darted around the room. "I'll go crazy if I don't know who's after me. How they look like. The man who replaced Cash is on to me and I don't even know where he's hiding."

"Look at me."

I tilted my head at Killua's command and found his eyes on me. Bright, intense, steady, and so full of confidence.

"You're in my world now. My rules. I've got you. Nothing can hurt you when you're with me. Not in my world." His eyes held mine. His stare was infinite. "I was made to protect you."

And at that moment, even though I didn't know how to feel about it and what to say, I believed him.

My arm over his shoulder, I let my hand move to the back of his neck, my fingers playing with the hair tickling his nape. His eyes closed. I loved how quickly he responded to my touch, as if he couldn't help it and he was nearly waiting too long for it.

His lips twitched into a wicked smile as he dipped me one last time. When the music faded, I stopped, breathless. Surprised by applause. He caught up my hand with his and lifted it to his mouth in an outright mockery of the kind of chivalry Grimm lived by.

I couldn't help but smile at the amusement that warmed his eyes.

When he released my hand, I looked down at what he'd left in my palm.

Two, tiny tracking devices. Someone, somehow, must have stuck them to my dress when I didn't notice. But Killua did.

I lifted my head to realize he had disappeared. I looked around, but he was nowhere in sight.

Glancing around the room, I caught a glimpse of Zymiral, whose attention was now riveted to me, watching me with hooded, expressionless eyes. The bastard wanted to track me down. He had picked the wrong person to play with.

"You okay?" Grimm asked from over my shoulder.

"Yes," I answered, with my eyes still on his brother. My fist clenched into the devices. "Can we go somewhere more private?"

"…Sure."

"Perfect."

* * *

Grimm's bodyguards were hot on our feet as we walked about the mansion.

After a lengthy tour, Grimm opened the door to his room and I walked a mini tour inside. His room was too big for a normal teen, with royal colors, beautifully worked redwood furniture, king-size pillows, a dartboard, a surround system, and many bookcases. I'd hoped he didn't bring me here to try any shenanigans with me. Because that would be a good reason to kick his ass. He didn't look like that type anyway.

"So where that's majestic gun collection?" I grabbed a dart and launched it at the dartboard, squarely hitting the bull's eye.

Grimm blinked. "How the hell did you do that?" He gestured at the dart. "I've spent years trying to hit the inner circle."

"Lucky shot," I lied. With a flirtatious wink, I added, "Guess I've been lucky all night."

Grimm smiled and moved to a small closet in the corner, his back turned to me.

This was my chance. I snuck up behind him, more than ready to knock him out. Quick and without drama. But then the chance was ruined when he opened the double doors of the closet to reveal shinning guns and beautiful firearms.

"You designed all of this? Goddamn. You are something," I praised, caressing the sleek guns. I pointed at one gold-platted gun with a special gemstone.

"That belonged to my mother. She died in a plane crash," Grimm told me, "two months before my father's murder."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know your father was murdered." I gave a note of sympathy to my tone, tiptoeing around the subject. "Did you know who murdered him?"

"An assassin, maybe. My father had a lot of enemies."

I snuck in the question. "How did it happen?"

Grimm breathed out a weary sigh. "My father was never home, only in special occasions. Just like my brother. It was New Year's Eve when he was found dead in his study… and decapitated. Zymiral claims he witnessed it. I was too young then but I remember my brother locking himself in his room for two months after that night. He never talked to anybody about it. Nobody knows what he saw but I know it stayed with him for too long."

Interesting. "Well, anyway, I stand by what I said. You sit way higher than your brother on the cool scale. Keep that in mind." I was still inspecting the weapons when I felt him shuffle closer to me.

"Thank you," he said, looking at me. "You made a shitty day… not so shitty."

I laughed. "High praise."

He bit his lip. "So... who was that guy with the scary eyes? Your boyfriend?"

I pretended to be clueless. "Who?"

"That guy you danced with. You and him… you had plenty of chemistry."

"Why, do you want me to hook you up with him?" I teased, not giving him a straight answer.

He huffed. "You can drop the hands-off, sassy act, you know."

"It's not an act." I continued to admire the rest of the collection and drive him crazy.

Grimm reached out and touched the ribbon at the back of my head. I jerked away before he could untie my mask. "Oh, c'mon," he complained. "Let me see your eyes. Don't I get an award for showing you my awesome collection?"

"You got the pleasure of my company."

"I know, and I have never felt luckier." He then touched the back of my neck, startling me to a stop, and I contemplated throwing him onto his back. "I've enjoyed every minute with you. Having you talk to me, being yourself around me and letting me be me. You're kind of amazing. And totally unexpected. I was dreading this day but you've made me glad it happened."

Oh no. "Everything happens for a reason."

He smiled, and I could see his dimple too closely now. I was frightened that he might try to kiss me. Because I had no idea what I'd do if he did. Crap, I hoped he didn't try to kiss me. We were facing each other and I was staring into the specks of gold in his eyes. He was looking at me like he was seeing more than I was presented on the surface, figuring me out, discovering my dark secrets, again making me want to slam him onto his back.

His thumb rubbed my jaw, his eyes zeroing on my lips. "What would you do if I kissed you right now?"

Oh God, no. Damn it, Grimm. "I… haven't decided yet." Not a lie.

He brought my head forward to meet his lips with mine and I didn't know what to do. I started panicking, my good composure slipping into the ground and my impulses kicking in. He was ruining everything.

His mouth barely touched mine when he jerked abruptly, shuddering, then he collapsed to the carpeted floor of his room. Effectively knocked out. I looked, dumbfounded, at the fist I'd held between us. I couldn't remember when it got there.

I sighed. Goodbye, Grimm. He was gonna hate me forever.

I picked him up and helped his sleepy body to his bed just before I padded over to the door.

When I yanked it open, my heart nearly stopped when I found Killua standing directly before me, looking alarmingly unamused. Grimm's three bodyguards laid unconscious on the ground by his feet. He stood there in his suit, looking so polished and urbane, while radiating a wild, feverish energy. His gaze went over my shoulder and behind me to where Grimm slept on the bed.

"Nice lipstick he's got on," Killua remarked.

Damn it to hell. "I didn't—"

"I know. I'm calm," he interrupted me. "Did you get his phone?"

"Yes." I held the phone I'd stolen between us. "We don't have much time before he wakes up and makes a fuss."

"Good. I want to get this over with, the sooner the better." He glanced at Grimm's phone in my palm. "Would you like to do the honors?"

I shook my head, handing him the phone. "Threatening and blackmailing is your specialty."

"Fine. I'll be at the inside balcony." He took the phone and walked away. His hands went into his pocket, his movements leisurely and controlled, which was when I feared him the most.

I shut off the lights of Grimm's bedroom and closed the door as my heart started racing. We were getting closer to the truth, and while I tried to look outwardly collected, I felt the exact opposite. I couldn't shake this bad feeling; this deep pit in my stomach that was telling me to run away before something bad happened. I didn't know what I was expecting to get out of Zymiral. I didn't know what I was hoping will come of this night. I didn't have any idea.

And I had no idea what it'd be like to know the truth.

Still, I didn't want to turn back now. Something was pulling me forward, urging me to see behind the close doors and check. I needed to know. I just had to know. My mind wouldn't rest otherwise.

I followed Killua into the balcony that overlooked the ballroom. Killua stood few feet away, dialing Zymiral's number. Resting my arms on the railing, I watched him from afar, fully aware that his temper had been tested all night and that only added up to my nervous state.

There was a part of me, and I didn't know how small or how deep it was tucked in inside me, that was afraid of pissing Killua off. It was there maybe because I didn't know the extent to his patience. How far he would take it.

Killua when he was a child bore pain so great he grew numb of it. Killua when he was the boy who took my parents' life had a dimmed light in his eyes and a limited grasp of his own life. I'd seen him impatient, wicked, vulnerable, irritated, resentful, and I'd seen him lost in his own head.

But it was Killua when he was angry who terrified me more than anything else.

I spotted Zymiral amongst the swarm of his socialites. He excused himself and reached into his inside pocket, pulling out his phone. He answered it, and a minute later, his expression started changing. He blinked once, then a shadow of horror passed over his face, his eyes carefully scanning the crowd around him. He just stood there, frozen and shell-shocked, listening to his phone, his shoulders slumped as if a great weight pressed down on them. Whatever Killua was saying to him had him crumbling visibly.

Killua returned, walking over to me. "Got him the old-fashioned way," he said, flipping the phone between his fingers. "He'll come alone, no army, no entourage. The man might be a drag, but he's not stupid. And he gives a crap about his brother."

After a couple minutes, Zymiral showed up to where we waited for him in his study. The door opened to his face as he looked for us, his eyes widening when he recognized me. "You," he spat. "I knew your interest in my brother couldn't be pure but he was foolish enough to stop me from throwing you out! Who are you working for?" He surged at me, but the hand Killua squeezed on his shoulder halted him mid-step.

"Easy there, fancy pants," Killua admonished. "You don't want to role-play the dumb mafia man who accidentally got his family killed."

"We're not working for anybody," I answered. "We're just here to make you answer some questions."

Zymiral's eyes flashed with fury. "What makes you think I'd do that when I could with _one_ cry of help send you both to your deaths?"

"For two reasons," Killua said, gesturing at me. "One being that she is a ruthless and irrational when she's pissed. And two: her bodyguard is a Zaoldyeck."

That did it. Zymiral took a step back, as if he'd seen a ghost. His dilated gaze remained fixed to Killua. "You're a… Zaoldyeck…" he stuttered. "You're the son that ran away. The heir…"

Killua's smile was cold. "You've heard of me."

"He's not here to kill you, or your brother," I amended quickly. "Neither of us is. It's only a matter of minutes and a couple questions before you go back to your party the way you left it, healthy and without a scratch. We're not even interested in hurting you or torturing answers out of you. Unless you want to unleash hell on this place, I suggest you take a seat."

"You'll let my brother go?" Zymiral looked uncertain. "You'll let me go?"

"Nobody's holding your brother hostage. He's safe in his room, but if he want to play hardball…" I let my sentence trail off until understanding, though indignant, settled over Zymiral's face. And he moved to sit.

Killua was the definition of provoking as he unbuttoned his jacket and took a seat behind Zymiral's desk. On the man's chair. And gestured for him to take a seat on one of the guest's chairs.

Zymiral complied. He was irked by the arrangement, but he swallowed his pride. He knew he was not the boss in the presence of a Zaoldyeck.

I didn't sit. I couldn't. My body was jittery and my nerves all over the place. I walked to the study's wine table and poured a glass of Scotch as I started, "Nine years ago on a July night, you hired the Zaoldyecks for an assassination here in one apartment in the suburbs. The victims were the Kudos, who worked for your syndicate. You remember that?"

Zymiral's nostrils flared. His jaw tensed. His voice cracked when he spoke. "That was long buried a long time ago. Why would you want to know about it?"

"Curiosity. Boredom. History assignment. Et cetera. None of your business." I handed him the glass. "What do you know about that night?"

In his tension, Zymiral gulped the whole drink down, paused, and unloaded. "The underground can be a bit like a jungle sometimes. Eat first or get eaten. Use all means to survive. We live in a circle or a chain or whatever you call it. The Zaoldyeck family is one of the families who sit on top of the chain. Sometimes, we have to provide a peace offering to the stronger chains in exchange for security…safety…freedom. We protect ourselves and our family. We do whatever it takes."

Killua interrupted. "Skip the dynastic struggles drama and get to it."

"You have to know this in order to understand why we had to do this to the Kudos. We had no choice."

"I don't care to know that," I pointed out. "Whatever you were holding against the Kudos, the crimes you did together, any underground crap, doesn't interest me. I care to know why you hired the Zaoldyecks in particular to do the assassination when you could have sent trained solider to do it."

Zymiral was looking at me now. "Wait, what?" His face creased with confusion. Immense confusion. "What did you just say?"

"When you hire an assassin to kill someone, there must be something special about them. Something threatening. There was nothing special about the Kudos—no special powers, no secret weapons, no big name, no inclinations whatsoever to turn against you. They had always been the loyal slaves that were trained under your father's supervision. Why did he feel the need to hire professional assassins to do the job?"

"Excuse me? You think my father wanted the Kudos to die?" Zymiral said, impassioned. "Where did you get that crazy idea?"

I scowled, taken aback. My eyes met Killua's, who didn't bother hiding his surprise himself.

"Maybe because your father paid a great deal of money to do that?"

"You serious?" Zymiral shook his head slightly. Everyone in the room seemed to have lost their bearings. "The Kudos were our men. Our _people_. My father liked and respected them because of their proven loyalty. He wanted them protected at all costs. You seriously believe he would pay a fortune to take down his own people? Do you really think that low of us?"

"Yes. My _heels_ are higher than your level," I bit out as I contemplated snapping his neck.

Zymiral sighed heavily. "You need to think better then."

Killua scowled. "You need to lose the attitude. Before I feel more tempted to throw you down that window, one piece at a time."

Zymiral flinched, looking down at his lap.

"Okay, explain this to me." I moved to stand over him. "You're saying your father didn't want to put the Kudos in danger… yet they still died because of the money _he_ paid. How does that make sense to you? Because it doesn't to me."

"Because you're missing out on the main point." Zymiral sounded frustrated. "My father _did_ hire the Zaoldyeck for an assassination. But he didn't hire them to assassinate _the Kudos_. Something went horribly wrong with that mission." He glanced at Killua. "A mistake was made."

His words were just the right amount of accusing.

Hearing them, Killua was out of his seat and rounding the desk, moving toward us. For a split second he actually looked alarmed. He was staring at Zymiral in silent rage. "What did you just say?"

I stepped in the middle, pressing my palm to his chest. "Killua, that's not what he meant," I said, even though I knew that was _exactly_ what Zymiral meant.

The Zaoldyecks made a mistake.

Killua made a mistake.

Killua wasn't supposed to kill my family.

That was what Zymiral was saying.

The closer Killua got, the more Zymiral shrank in his seat. His lip trembled. He looked torn. Unsure. And I _knew_ he was telling the truth. He was just afraid to confirm it. "L-Look, I know, you can't believe me, but you have to. We had no reason to kill the Kudos. What we wanted was to _protect_ the Kudos from their unfortunate fate, but the Zaoldyecks… they stabbed us in the back. They betrayed us. My family suffered because we were stupid enough to trust them."

Killua tensed under my hands.

I started to run out of patience myself. I needed a damn clear answer. "What do you mean betrayed you?"

Zymiral ignored my question. His eyes were full of resigned horror as they looked at Killua. "It was you… wasn't it? You were the assassin who did the job."

"I'm asking the questions," I said through clenched teeth. More than tempted to lose my cool right there. "How did the Zaoldyecks betray you?"

"They went against what we told them to do. They didn't go as planned. They did the opposite," Zymiral was saying, "I…I don't know why they did that. What they gained out of it. All I know is that we lost two of our best spies that night when we were trying to protect them. The contract we made with the Zaoldyecks clearly stated that we wanted the Kudos to stay alive… but they didn't follow through."

Suspicion rolled through me.

Zymiral looked at the both of us. "Judging by your reaction, you didn't know about the Zaoldyeck's plan."

Killua said nothing to that. He was so good at masking his emotions that I hardly registered the look of pure rage that shifted in and out of his features. Nothing but the strain in his forehead, the tension in his jaw, gave him away.

Zymiral nodded. "They sent you to do the wrong mission," he told Killua. "They gave you a fake contract. They made you believe the Kudos were your target. Lied to you. Your family betrayed you, just like they betrayed us."

I flinched without intending to. The burn of dread blushed up my neck. I turned to Killua. Looking for answers. For explanation. For help. Anything. I was a slice of silence, struck, shocked, cut deep by this information. What did this all mean? Did I have to believe that my family's life was taken away by a mistake? Or that Killua's family had indeed fooled him? Deliberately wanted him to make that mistake?

But why?

Killua clenched and unclenched his jaw several times. He glanced at Zymiral. Glanced at me. At the wall. Shut his eyes and finally sighed. Then, I didn't know how to explain what happened next, but I was pushed aside out of his way, and his hand was now around Zymiral's throat.

"Killua," I gasped.

"You're trying to save yourself by throwing the blame at someone else," he said harshly. "What makes you think lying is going to save you from me right now?"

"I'm not lying, I swear," Zymiral choked out. He clawed at Killua's hand. "I might be a lot of things—an airhead, a deadbeat, an occasional scumbag. But I'm not a liar. I'm not saying we are not in the wrong. I know, I _know_, we are to blame. Me, my father, our family…what we did was—Do you think I'm proud of what my father wanted to do that night? Do you think my father was? We had no choice! That contract made my dad lose half his wealth. And then he lost his _life_. My mother's plane crashed. Don't you think I would know not to mess with you when it comes to this?"

Killua paused for one minute. Then threw Zymiral back into his seat. "There's something you're not telling us. Spill it out."

Zymiral was breathing raggedly. "Ask me anything. And I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything."

I stepped up. There was only one question: "If the contract you made with the Zaoldyeck didn't say _kill the Kudos_. What did it say then?"

Zymiral glanced between Killua and me. "The truth is… We didn't hire the Zaoldyecks to kill the Kudos," he finally said, his face coloring with shame. "We hired the Zaoldyeck to assassinate the Kudos' seven-year-old daughter."

* * *

**A/N:** Yeah. This. I don't even know what to say. I'll leave the comments to you.

I would love to keep you here for the second part of the party but if the chapter got any longer than this I'm sure it would scare you away. The second part is heavily action-packed. You will get to know more about Killua's part of the party. What he was up to the whole time Yuki was away. And it is _goood_.

Please review if you can and tell me stuff. The crazier the better.

And of course: stay sexy.


	48. Reaper's Tango: Part II, Abominations

**A/N:** I am baaaaa-aaaack. And so late. Trust me, I hate me as much as you hate me. It's just that I'm at my busiest in between March and June, college-wise. I'm probably going to squeeze one more update after this one before I disappear till the middle of July. I know. It sucks. I hate me too I really do. Well, I especially hate school. But I hate myself too.

But you are all flawless with your reviews and asks and messages and you all make me sigh happily with each review.

For anyone who is interested _Tlnfanclub_ and _KiGaMin_ on tumblr will be liveblogging while reading this chapter because live reactions are as good as Christmas mornings.

This chapter is one of the richest chapters; it has a bit of everything. Now let's dig in.

* * *

_Zymiral glanced between Killua and me. "The truth is… We didn't hire the Zaoldyecks to kill the Kudos," he finally said, his face coloring with shame. "We hired the Zaoldyeck to assassinate the Kudos' seven-year-old daughter."_

* * *

_**Reaper's Tango: Part II  
Abominations**  
_

* * *

_In a sense, creepiness was a key aspect of Killua Zaoldyeck's job description, and once upon a time, he was utterly devoted to his work. Just to be more accurately, he had _no choice but_ to be utterly devoted to his work.  
_

_The tale of how Killua Zaoldyeck changed his style from bad to good was very interesting. It all started when it finally occurred to him what friendship feelings felt like, which led him to have his Pinocchio coming to life moment, where he was suddenly a real boy with emotion and empathy. It was long since Killua realized that clean living was tough. He decided to adapt it anyway. __Because as simple—and as complicated—as it sounds: you might regret doing the bad thing, but you will never regret doing the good._

_His self-awareness had developed until he learned to channel his power in less destructive ways. __And so in time, Killua managed to tame his sinister eyebrow raise and tone down his creepy vibe._

_Well… Almost._

_Killua stood in the foreboding darkness of the surveillance room, staring at the TVs hanging from the walls as they stared back at him. He bunched a few buttons there, focused the surveillance cameras on some faces, listened to some conversations. He was doing his job of micromanaging the mafia party, leaving the man behind him staring helplessly at his back. _

_The man, who was still uncoordinated by the horrendous way his head was slammed into a wall by Yuki few minutes ago, crouched against the opposite wall from Killua. He stared at him like a sinner waiting for his penalty. _

_He finally spoke, his voice shaky and scared. "How…how are you going to punish me?" _

_"I don't know yet," Killua answered without turning around. "But we mustn't rush art." His voice loaded itself with absentmindedness since his attention was mostly devoted to the screens before him. "How long have you been working for the mafia?"_

_"Eight years, sir."_

_He almost snorted at being called "sir", but let it go. "So you memorized the rules along the way," he asked, and the man nodded. "Do you have kids?"_

_"Yes, sir. A boy and a girl, sir."_

_"And you love them."_

_"Yes…sir."_

_"Did you think of them when you agreed to step on a Zaoldyeck's toes? How you might turn them into orphans?"_

_The man swallowed. "T–they made me do it. I have no say in the matter. If I didn't do it, my boss would have killed me."_

_Killua paused to roll his eyes.__"What about your agency?"  
_

___The man started shaking. "I've never had one in a very long time," he said with a slight conviction to his voice. "Just kill me and get it over with."  
_

___At that, Killua turned to look at the man. He slouched there against the wall, his head hanging down. He wasn't confined; he could have stood up and ran away straight through the unlocked door, but he didn't. It wasn't just because fear paralyzed his limbs, but also because he knew there was a chance that one move would get him killed on the spot. By staying there, he knew he had a chance, no matter how small that was, in staying alive. Killua knew, that man didn't want to die. He wanted that second chance._

_Killua's choice for a clean living didn't drastically change him, but it did change the way he negotiated the world around him. Killua wanted to rise above what he once was—a killer, thorough and thorough__—_and he wanted to prove to others, most importantly to himself, that he was capable of being his own person. Someone who could make his own choices and not be led by what others wanted him to be.  


_____And yet he still didn't hesitate to take matters into his own hands when necessary._

___"You're a dead man anyway," Killua said, moving to stand over the man with his arms crossed. He stared him down. "Whether I kill you now or not, you're dead. As long as you're working for them, you're dead. You're a puppet. You're a pawn. You are lifeless and you have no voice. Do you think you're really alive?"_

___The man shook his head. "I have no choice. It's too late. My hands will never be clean."_

___You always have a choice, Killua thought. There is always a choice to make it better. There is always a solution. You just have to want it enough._

___"They won't let me want anything. They will always find me no matter how far I run."_

___That was not true, Killua thought again. You keep running. Because this life is a test, a race that you run, and you don't necessarily have to win____ as long as you keep running_, because you know that you gave it your all in the end. And that's what matters.  


___It had been five years since Killua realized this lesson. He was twelve and he was in a tunnel and he was running. There were a lot of people running along, all around him, but there was one boy beside him that taught him the true premise of not giving up. No matter who abandoned you at the beginning, no matter who tried to put you down along the way, no matter if you had to stop to give a helping hand to a falling fellow runner, you just don't give up on running the race. And so as the years passed, Killua learned so much. Life is a long race, but it's always easier to run it if you have someone running on your side, someone you can call a friend. Someone to run that race with you no matter if life is coming against you or going your way. Someone you can tell how you feel about and realize they'll feel the same thing, in the same place. And if you have this kind of friend, no matter the outcome is, you've already won the race. _

_Needless to say, Killua might have been doing good all these years. He might have been running the path of decency and patience in giving others a second chance. But he had not gone soft. He went soft for pretty blue eyes on a particular face of one particular girl. But the softness was wanton and fleeting, and when all was said and done, Killua was not going to let it come between him and protecting his loved ones. Which basically amounted to saying that Killua Zaoldyeck did not go soft, period—not to the point where it interfered with his overriding, overwhelming urge to keep his loved ones safe. _

_Killua sighed. "Get out of here." _

_The man allowed himself a moment of hope. "Really?"_

_Abruptly, Killua yanked him upright by the shoulder to his eye level. _

_The man gasped as his feet left the ground, shaking again, holding onto Killua's forearm in dear life.  
_

_ Killua glared into the man's face. "Listen to me. After you walk out that door, you have a chance to serve a purpose. I want you to use it well and deliver this message to your boss," he said with a quiet intensity. "No one threatens what's mine. No one. Or I'll be real pissed. Trust me when I say, you'd all rather be in hell and experience things worse than death, than be with me in the same room when I'm pissed. If you try to hurt what's mine again, I will destroy every last one of you, even if I have to turn the whole place into a bloodbath."_

* * *

This was one of those moments in my life that I didn't know if I should laugh, cry, or run away as fast as possible.

I was vibrating in disgust from head to toe, swallowing hard. My fingers were shaking so fast I clenched them into a fist.

"What happened to her?" I whispered to the wall, unable to look at neither of the men beside me. If I looked at Zymiral, I was afraid I'd break him. And if I looked at Killua, I was afraid I'd break apart. "The girl. Do you know what happened to her after that night?"

Zymiral rubbed his hands together, as if to take a stain off his own skin, and stared straight ahead. "There were…rumors. In the underground, everyone had written a story to her fate. Some said she died. Some said she disappeared out of the city. Some said she was taken by a relative who hid her away for years"—I flinched—"Nobody knew for sure. Especially that the Kudos had given her a very common name, so it'd be easy for her to blend in well and melt away. So it'd be harder to distinguish and find her."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My family planned it all right from the start. They had planned to _hide me_. Maybe even Gary planned to hide me, like I was some dirty secret.

"Why would you think she died?" I asked carefully, slowly.

Zymiral was on his feet. Moving cautiously so he didn't startle me. "May I?" He excused himself and dived behind his desk, opened the safe and dug out a piece of paper; a newspaper that looked old; yellow, crumbly and a little dated. Very, very cautiously, he moved toward Killua, who hadn't seemed to have moved a muscle. It seemed like he'd stopped breathing altogether. He was staring at nothing, holding himself very still, his eyes revealing nothing of what he was really thinking, what he was feeling.

Zymiral handed him the newspaper, from afar, as if he was afraid getting closer might burn him up and down. "This came out the morning after the assassination."

Killua took the paper and stared down at it, his movement slow and economical, as if he were withdrawing into himself. Five seconds of silence joined the conversation, I saw a hint of shock in the depth of his bloodshot eyes.

My feet moved forward of their own, and then I was reading the written headline.

**Four Members of a Suburban Family Killed in Mysterious Circumstances.**

The rest of the article said, _Police in York Shin have begun a murder inquiry after local parents and their two children were found brutally assassinated in their house. _

My heart started pounding so hard. Too hard. Four members? Two children? That meant me included. That meant they thought I died too. Why would they think that when it was so clear that I survived? I remembered the police when they took me out of the apartment and asked me to wait in their car. I remembered Gary's arrival and his consciously calm face as he spoke to the detectives. Everyone knew I wasn't dead. Everyone saw me alive. Who gave the newspaper the authority to write me dead?

Who _wanted_ to write me dead? What was the purpose of saying I died when I didn't?

There were a thousand feelings of disbelief hole-punched in my heart. A thousand of questions, starting with: Who the hell am I? Why did my death matter so much to these people? Why did _I_ matter?

I was shaking, swirling in my head, tempted by recklessness, aching, desperate to run and destroy everything in front of me, starting with Zymiral.

I was burning with indignation so raw that it was like a fire raging within me, a wildfire of decimated hopes. I wanted to crush his spine in my hand. I wanted him to know the pain I was feeling and Killua's pain and I wanted him to hurt.

My eyes shot over to him, and before he saw it coming, before I saw it coming, my hands were around his shirt and I'd pinned him to the wall, so overcome by a blind, burning, all-consuming rage. I squeezed his throat. "I have no tolerance," I said sharply into Zymiral's panic-stricken face, "for someone who beats a child. I have no tolerance for someone who would do so much as raise a harming hand over a child. And I will never regret killing a man who would push a child into a wall. I will very much enjoy killing a man who would punch a child in the face. I will do it without blinking. And I will not be sorry. I will not apologize. And you"—I squeezed a little harder—"you and your father hired professional assassins to _kill_ a child. You paid money to spill a child's blood. Give me one reason why I'm still allowing you to take another breath right now."

Zymiral was sputtering. He was gasping. Clawing at my body and collapsing onto the floor and I was enjoying it. He was wheezing, coughing, trying to breathe, trying to speak and I was amused by his pain. "It wasn't me," he croaked out. "I didn't do anything! It was my father who hired the Zaoldyecks. I didn't do it."

"You let it happen. You watched it happen. How could you do that to a child?"

Zymiral looked furious. "Because we had no choice. Because either that child died or we did."

"Why? Why did she have to die?"

He didn't answer.

I dropped him to the ground and grabbed the desk chair at the same time, smashing it against his side.

He grunted, shrinking in on himself with pain.

I picked up a thick chunk of broken wood and weighed it in my hands. Broke it in half so the end was pointed and sharp. Tilted my head and took inventory of Zymiral's body parts.

"No," Zymiral managed to gasp, "no—Please, no—"

I walked over as he used his hand to back himself up to the wall, my hand clenching around the piece of wood. I was so hurt and so angry and so horrified by my anger.

Killua came up from behind me and his hand on my arm brought me back to the present, hauled me up and into myself, jarring my consciousness back to reality. His fingers pressed into the right point on my wrist until I dropped the chunk of wood.

"Pull it together," he told me. "Snap out of it."

I growled at him. "Don't even pretend you're not as angry as I am right now."

His stare penetrated me, locked me onto him. "I won't, but it's not going to solve anything. Snap. Out. Of it."

"Okay! Jeez." I shook my arm free. "I'm calm."

Killua stared at the cowering man before us. "Why did you want that child dead?"

"Look, if it makes you feel better…ish, we were not the only one, okay?" Zymiral said, breathing so shallow his words slurred. "The Rhymerines, the—the family that was ruled by Rhyme Cash, they also tried to do what we did. Only two years after. W-When rumors buzzed that the girl could still be alive, Cash's partner, Cirillo Yedemsky, arranged to do something about it. H-he's always been suspected of trafficking women and kids and he was making arrangements to sell or trade the Kudos' daughter for that purpose. It was…it was what got him assassinated."

My stomach dropped to my toes.

The mafia trying to kill a child was something I could believe. But trying to hurt that child more than once? Sex trafficking? I couldn't comprehend that at all. I couldn't comprehend the possibility of someone hating a child so much.

More on the matter…

I craned my neck, my eyes catching Killua. The tension was clear in his shoulder and in the line of his hard jaw and when he finally looked back at me, there were stories in his eyes, thoughts and feelings and confessions of things I'd never seen before.

Cirillo Yedemsky was killed by the Zaoldyecks.

Cirillo Yedemsky was killed by _Killua_.

The Zaoldyecks had sent Killua to stop Cirillo from hurting me.

Killua had protected me back when we were children… and he did it without even knowing he was doing it.

"The Zaoldyecks," Zymiral continued, his voice weakening, "have always protected that girl. After what happened to Cirillo, no mafia family dared to look for her ever again. We lived our life pretending she never existed."

"Why her?" I asked. "Why did you want to kill her?"

Zymiral's eyes dropped. He pressed them shut like he couldn't believe he was supposed to answer this question.

Frustration whipped through me. I ripped the mask off my face, looked him in the eyes and said, "Focus, Zymiral, and we'll let you go back to your booze and ignorance. Just answer the question, _why that child in particular?_"

Suddenly, a scream sliced in the air, filled with absolute and utter hysteria. Zymiral was screaming so much, scrambling back and dragging himself backwards across the floor with his arms. He'd still had the piece of wood pierced through his leg, but he was clearly too petrified to react to the pain anymore. All I saw was agony in his eyes. Weakness. Terror.

And it was then I realized… _he was running away from me_.

"You're her…" His voice was barely a whisper. "You're her. You're that girl.…" He started chanting horrifically. "You're her, no, oh no… You're her…"

I frowned and backed away from him, shaking my head, unable to process what was happening. He knew who I was. All of a sudden, he knew.

Fingers wrapped around my wrist. I lifted my head toward Killua, who hauled me back and stepped in front of me. "Step back, Yuki," he ordered, neutralized his expression, his tone.

I back off into the desk, breathless and confused. I had no idea what the hell was going on anymore.

Zymiral was shaking like an animal in the corner of his study. He drew his legs up to his chest, hugged himself away from me, and he was still staring into my eyes in a way that frightened me. Blinking like he was starting to see something he wished he could unsee… Something revolting. Something so dark he couldn't fight or comprehend.

His frantic eyes pleaded to Killua. "Get her away… Don't let her anywhere near me. Please. Please. Please."

The minute I moved away from him, Zymiral moved forward. He was crawling toward Killua, crawling toward his feet and pleading down his knees. His hands were trembling so badly as they grabbed onto Killua's pants and I realized he was trying to whisper something. He was trying to talk. Maybe he was crying. Maybe he was begging for mercy.

But he wasn't.

What he was trying to whisper, was a request of two words.

"_Kill her._"

My body locked. My bones, my blood, my brain froze in place, seizing in some kind of sudden, uncontrollable paralysis that spread through me so quickly I couldn't seem to breathe.

Killua's gaze met mine, and I would never, ever forget the terror in his, the look of pure helplessness. He was looking at me, eyes raw with emotion, making a slow assessment of me, sharpening to vivid black. His gaze became too heavy, his eyes too deep. I watched the boy I loved as every emotion left his eyes and was replaced by cold, unmistakable, destructive fury.

He cocked his head. Looked down at Zymiral.

"Say that to me again," Killua said, "and I will rip you apart."

"I'm not the enemy!" Zymiral shouted. He looked so sad. So pitiful. So doomed. He pointed at me with crazed eyes. "She is! She's our enemy. She's _your_ enemy. Everyone in the underground hate her. Her own parents died because of her. Everyone always wanted to get rid of her, to make her someone else's problem. That girl should have died nine years ago and spared the world of her existence. _Our_ world. My father, my mother, _her own family_, all suffered because of her." He tried to shake Killua's legs. "And you're in this as much as I am. If you don't do anything about it, if you allow her to live another day, you will suffer too." A pause. "She will be your downfall. As long as she's alive, she will bring you nothing but hell. Her existence alone will be the reason you die."

I started trembling. I felt like all the people in the world had punched me in the stomach all at once.

I couldn't do anything but endure these tremors rocking through the length of my entire frame. I was so, so afraid to dwell on the truths I'd just uncovered.

A new tightness in his breathing. A new tightness in his jaw. The way his fingers of his right hand flexed by his side. These were the only signs that Killua was affected by Zymiral's words.

"Finish what you started," Zymiral begged more, "finish what you should have done that night, or she will kill you. She's a walking weapon and she will kill you without realizing it. You saw what she did to me." He flailed his blood-stained hands in the air. "See? See? She will do worse to you. She's a sadistic monster. She's a disgrace. An _abomination_."

"Shut your mouth," Killua said, his voice so low, so even. He stood straight, tall, unflinching, his body so still it was terrifying.

"Don't be weak!" Zymiral spat, hysterical. Breathing hard as he spoke. "Clean up the mess your family made, put an end to their aberration. You left your family for a reason. Don't be like them. They wanted to protect her—they foolishly wanted to protect such little, demented _being_."

Killua was shocked into silence, his whole body shaking from the unspent energy. He didn't say a word. He didn't make a sound. He was alert, on the edge, ready to fight, to react. He'd been holding it all back.

I was scared, scared for him, scared for me. I closed my eyes and focused on breathing, my thoughts kicked me in the heart. I was sorry. I didn't know what I did or how I did it but I was sorry. Zymiral voicing out my worst fears—that I was ruining Killua's life by simply being near him—left me a novocaine. I was a world of nothing, numb, all feeling and emotion gone forever. I felt nothing. I was nothing. I was empty of everything and I couldn't move. I was staring at a small crack near my shoe. I would keep staring at it.

Zymiral thought I was an abomination. Unholy. Accused me of destruction I didn't know I could commit.

Maybe the world would have been safer with me locked away. Maybe Killua would have been safer if he had finished what he started.

Zymiral looked at me with so much hate, he looked at me like the outsider I felt I was. "She was born that way, born to destroy. Born to cause everyone close to her suffer. Some children are like this. Some children are born to be delinquents. To stir up everything. Some children don't have the right to exist. No matter what they do, what they feel; no matter what they accomplish, that's all they will ever be; an abomination. A _bad seed. _Some kids shouldn't have born—shouldn't have _lived_—"

Killua's eyes flashed.

He swung his arm_—_

The thud of Zymiral's head hitting the wall was teeth-rattling in its violence.

Time seemed to stand still.

Killua said nothing. He didn't look in my direction. The same arms that held my body were now holsters for lethal destruction.

Zymiral was dead. He died the same way his father did, in his study; without his head; _because of me_. All the accusations stopped, the condemnation, the blaming, the alienation he made me feel. It all stopped. I felt like I should be cheering. Like I should be relieved.

But I was too anxious. I was too suspended in disbelief. I was too insecure to be relieved in my own truths. In what I had to listen to about myself. In what I had to do with myself after this. I needed to pull myself together.

Abruptly, there was a steady rip of sirens in the air.

My eyes were wide, darting in every direction. I looked down at Zymiral's headless body, saw a tiny wire poking through his shirt, and it clicked to me.

The sirens were attached to the man's heartbeat. The sirens went off once the pulse was gone.

The sirens were summoning everyone inside the mansion of his death.

The _bastard_. The goddamned genius bastard.

Mob soldiers. Dozens of mob soldiers would track the body down. They would come in here to this room.

After us.

Panic coursed through me. Panic; terror clouded my consciousness. I felt so weak and helpless and stupid for not knowing what to do next. I didn't want to fight, but more importantly, I didn't want Killua to fight. He was not okay. He was not fully okay. Anxiety clawed its way back into my chest.

Killua stepped over Zymiral's body and toward me. "Yuki—" He moved forward, and when I flinched away from him, he stopped short of touching me.

"Okay, I…need a moment." My nerves felt shot. I knew I wasn't going to freak out, at least, but I'd have plenty of time to panic and have a mini breakdown later.

Killua ignored the sirens and grabbed my upper arms, his hands steady and strong. The same hands he just used to kill a man. He held my eyes in place.

I looked up and met his stare just long enough to see the hurt flash in and out of his eyes. Hurt for me, probably because I looked worse than I thought. I probably looked as broken as I felt. I remained still and quiet as Killua still held me in his soft grip. Several emotions swept through me.

"Listen to me, Yuki," he said, his voice throaty, weary. "You're not a hundred percent. "I will ask you this one thing and I need you not to say no. Jump out of that window. You're not a hundred percent. I'll deal with whoever comes in here and I'll catch up with you. There are some things I need to take care of. Go down that window and look for an exit. If you found one, wait for me in the car." He pried my fingers open and then keys were in my palm.

"No—"

"Yes." He shook me a little. "I will finish up here and I will find you. Wherever you are, I always find you. Say you understand."

My eyes stung. All I could do was nod. "I'm sorry, Killua," I heard myself say, my stupid voice breaking. "I'm sorry. I think…I think Zymiral was right. I hurt you once, I would do it again. I don't know how but I would. It's what I do best; I screw up everything good…and I'm sorry. I never want to hurt you…"

He looked shocked and hurt at the same time. "What? No. Don't think like that, it makes me crazy." He looked firmly into my eyes. "Don't believe anything he said. There's nothing true about what that tool said. There's nothing wrong with you. You're right—you're right _for me_. I'm crazy about you, and I have a damn good reason to be."

I stared at the strength in his jaw, in his eyes, in his body. I tried to understand the confidence he had in who he thought I was and realized his reassurance was the only thing keeping me from diving into a pool of my own insanity. He had always believed in me. Always thought I mattered. Always thought I was strong and brave and… _important_. Even soundlessly, silently, he fought for me. Always.

Footsteps were thundering through the halls and men were barking at each other so loudly I could hear it through the walls.

Killua ignored them again and his hand went to my shoulders, shaking me into attention, lifting my chin up to look at him. "Do you love me?"

"Yes," I answered without thinking.

"Do you trust me to get you out of here?"

"Yes."

"Then _go_. Keep yourself safe for me."

Nodding again, I went to the window and jumped.

The sirens were still blaring. The minute my feet touched the ground, it started vibrating, my nerves along with it. I watched, riveted, as walls of steel emerged up from the ground, up high to the sky. The walls were seemingly connected to the sirens, because they skirted the entire mansion from every direction like prison walls, preventing every escape route. There was no way out, and I didn't know how long it'd be until I was discovered by the set of soldiers who were clearly on stand-up now.

I took a moment to analyze my surroundings and realized I was near the main entrance. It was filling with armed men, ready to go on a search party. Avoiding to be spotted, I ran as fast and soundlessly as I could around the mansion until I could see the monogrammed set of double gates in the backyard. It was so spacious in width and height. I wasted no time in bolting toward the gates and curling both my hands around the iron bars.

_Bzzt_. I jerked away with a hushed curse. The iron gate, the automatic steely walls, they were all laced with electricity. I fortified my hands and gave it another shot.

Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the bars again and started pulling them apart. My muscles strained. The bars groaned and start to bend out of shape until I heard a snap. One bar came in my hand, but I still needed to break at least four to form a gap wide enough for me to walk through.

I was about to go at it again just when I felt myself stepping on something that made a _crunch_ sound. It made me flinch, because the sirens had stopped and it was suddenly a very quiet night. The tiniest sound could draw attention toward me.

But then…

_I looked down_. And it was a decision that I might or might not regret in a few minutes.

Because when I looked down, I saw what my heel had crushed. _A breadcrumb_.

A freaking breadcrumb. Thinking this was some sick joke, I looked around me.

What I discovered next astonished me even more. A line of breadcrumbs trailed all the way from the gates to the stretch of darkness ahead of me. Somebody knew—no, somebody was sure I would try to open these gates and left these breadcrumbs for me. And that somebody wasn't a Zymiral soldier. It was someone different. Their idea of luring me in by leaving little bits of breadcrumbs for me like I was a tiny lost girl was ridiculously… genius.

Because even if there was a possibility it would lead to clowns and puppy-murder, I was still going to follow it because this person clearly wanted me to find it, me and me alone. This person knew I was looking for clues. They knew what would provoke and motivate me. They knew I would want to know them.

I moved slowly at first, wary, worried that there might be soldiers around, but it didn't take long for me to realize there was no sound of life in this backyard. I decided to run.

My feet made squishy-squashy noise on the grass and I realized I was inside the Zymiral's garden, which was illuminated with Christmas fairy lights and lanterns, hanging from the tree branches. I heard a feeble sound coming from somewhere near me.

I strained my ears and heard it again.

Heavy, labored breathing.

The closer I got, the more clearly I could hear him. It had to be him. My muscles were ready to burst into action, my eyes careful now, anticipating attackers. My  
legs moved swiftly, easily, silently. I nearly gasped at a shadow the trees had cast on the ground. I took a steadying breath. Rounded another tree, then another, and another.

And nearly stopped breathing.

Grimm was on the ground against a brick wall, chains binding his wrists behind his back, nose bloodied and his nice tux stained with mud.

"Oh my god." I knelt before him and Grimm tried to lift his head. He wheezed once I ripped the cloth from his mouth. "Grimm, it's me. _Look at me_. Who did this to you?"

His eyes found me. "Jesus―what are you doing here?" He coughed, took a deep breath.

"Later." I reached up to touch his face. "I need you to tell me who brought you here."

"Can't"—he swallowed—"Can't remember anything. I woke up and found myself in here."

"Damn it." The breadcrumbs leading to a chained Grimm was like the worst prank on earth.

"The sirens—Zim's dead isn't he?"

"I need to free you." I went around behind him and used my fingers to break the chains off from his wrists. They crumbled in pieces.

Grimm winced. "Fuck. How did you do that?"

"Physical strength," a feminine voice came from behind me, smooth and unwavering. "Very strong. Make sure to write that down and send it straight to Kent."

The woman who was walking up to me was in her late twenties. Polished-looking and slender, with big dark eyes and a cascade of light brown, deliberately messy curls falling down her shoulders. A man followed her, typing on a touchscreen. She stood before Grimm and I, wearing a black pencil skirt and straightening the cuffs of her black long-sleeved silk blouse. All black, like she was mourning somebody.

Cash. This woman was close to Cash.

She was the one who sent the sniper to shoot me from a building roof. She was the one who sent a mob man to threaten me in the Zymiral's piano room. And she was the one with the stalker-eyes in the party.

My eyes narrowed at her. "I see you inherited Cash's playbook of _how to be annoying stalkers_."

Calinda smiled. "Yuki Kudo. My husband mentioned that you're too feisty for your own good."

Grimm's head snapped at me in shock. "Your name is _YUKI KUDO_?"

"Shh!" I turned back to the lady, glaring. "What's the meaning of this? Why are you bringing Grimm into this? And why the hell are you monitoring me like a rat in a box?"

"Oh, please," she said. "These Zymirals are like game rules; the less they are, the merrier I am. And about your other question. Lets say that I have some business here and just stopped by to check out your curious metamorphose."

"What do you want? Kill me? Torture me?"

"That won't be necessary." Calinda's voice was saturated with mock disappointment. "I suppose I'd be wondering the same thing if I were in her position, since, you know, you were the last face Cash saw. But then again, and I'm assuming you know that now, but mob men dying because of you is old news." A pause. "I have a proposition for you."

"Let me guess, you have precious information to offer me and you need me to pay for them. Been there, done that. Not interested, for now you can relax." I stood on my feet, pulling Grimm with me, who winced again and staggered. He was my first priority right now, clues about my potentially messy past be damned. If Grimm's life got messy—_messier_, because of me, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. I was the one who dragged him into this and I would be the one who got him out.

"I'm here to offer you a ride," she replied. "You have something I want. You are kind of a pet project of mine." Calinda smiled to herself. "I've studied your history for a very long time. Just come with me. I'll let Little Zymiral go. I'll let him go. I only want you."

"Well, could've tried something classic. Like stuffing me into the back of the trunk or something. There is always a better tactic in forcing someone to listen to you."

"I know your secret, Yuki. I know why you're in here. I have your entire life documented in hospital records, your uncle's demands to have you locked up, your master taking you away when you were ten. I'd been considering it for a long time, but I wanted to make sure you weren't actually psychotic. Although my husband did warn me about you. He said: Be careful. There is a huge seven foot roaring wild beast inside that girl's tiny body when it comes to Killua Zaoldyeck." She offered me a smile that says I should be grateful for her praise.

Grimm burst at me again. "_ZAOLDYECK?_"

I clamped a hand over his mouth, staring hard at Calinda. "It's okay. I'd rather find my secrets all by myself. Now if you excuse me."

"Wouldn't you like to stay and chat, at least?"

"Nope." She was like an exceptionally insistent paparazzi.

"Come on. I'd like to have you in my hospitality for a while," Calinda insisted with an airy tone. "I'm sure we could reach an agreement! Don't worry, we'll take good care of you."

I shook my head a little. "Wow, okay. Let me say it slower: _no_. Last time I heard something like this, I was trapped in the middle of a lake with a bunch of corpses and a deadly clown-like man over my head. You can understand why I'm not so thrilled by your invitation." I grabbed Grimm's arm and made him walk through the garden. Then stopped when I saw a man hiding behind a tree. In fact, there was a man behind _every_ tree. Very quickly, they all started to reveal themselves under the fairy Christmas lights. If I counted them, they would be at least sixty.

Over sixty men had surrounded me.

Okay, maybe an exceptionally insistent but deadly paparazzi.

"Aw, hell," I muttered.

"You're leaving me no choice," Calinda said, sublimely, "but to convince you."

"By summoning an army to do your dirty work for you," I sneered. "Zero points for unpredictability."

"My husband and I wanted the same thing, but our ways of getting it is different. I loved my husband, Yuki. But he was a fool who wanted to make an ally out of a long-term enemy and hand over priceless information to her. My husband was too cautious, too worried about taking victories. I was the one who convinced him to teach your boyfriend a lesson. I convinced him, very thoroughly, that poisoning the fruit of the poisonous tree would be for our benefit. He was opposed to it at first."

I made a face. "How extraordinarily biblical."

"How did you all get in here?" Grimm asked then. "The security system is impossible to break."

"You'd be surprised, Little Zymiral, of how much a smart woman with good looks can achieve." She looked right at me as she said that. Low blow.

But I had no time for a sass contest. My eyes searched the space, certain that these men weren't weak because I could sense it, and they were prepared to ambush me at any second. Leaving the breadcrumbs, carrying Grimm here, tagging an army along, meant that this women knew that my meeting with Zymiral would end with him dead. She and Cash, both of them were certain Zymiral would freak out so much and his powerful reaction to seeing my face would be the reason of his death.

_Why were they so sure? What else does this woman know? And what does she want to do with me?_

Dozens of mob soldiers were lining up before me. Beside me. Behind me.

"Seize her," Calinda ordered them softly, with the same calm authority that mirrored her dead husband. "The boy, however, you're free to do whatever you want with him."

At their boss's orders, the soldiers rared to comply.

It was definitely Plan B time for me here. When Calinda called on her allies to surround me, my options were narrowed to one: fight.

A look of fear and drunken confusion was on Grimm's face. He backed further into the wall. Eyes wide and unblinking.

My knees bent in a fighting stance as I eyed the army around me. Hundreds of eyes were directed up in my direction, studying my every move.I knew they were going to go for a hand-to-hand combat, since firearm would get you nowhere with a nen-user. I wouldn't complain. My hands were already itching to break something, and I'd make sure to give them a scratch.

One man charged first, rocketing his right fist toward me, like he was begging me to make a joke out of him. So I did, immobilizing his fist before it made contact with my face. My fingers clenched around his until I heard the unmistakable crush of his knuckles, forcing him to his knees and then kneeing him in the chin. I sensed another man behind me, and quickly caught the blade of his knife with my fingers, frozen only inches from my eye. I hurled the knife back with so much force that the handle hit the man right between the eyes. He flew backward, catching himself just before hitting the ground.

A hiss escaped me. They had good recovery speed. Knocking them out was no good for me.

I had to kill them.

"Remember, I want her alive." Calinda's voice penetrated the atmosphere: crisp, clear, unbearably confident.

Dead was the only way they would catch me.

It didn't matter if they were nen-users or trained in martial arts — I was stronger. But I was also alarmingly outnumbered, burdened by the need to keep Grimm alive, and the fact that speed wasn't my forte.

At first, Cash's army attacked me one and two at a time. I flicked them away like gnats. I managed to shove, break, and snap my way out, but not for long. When they started to attack en masse, that had me at a disadvantage. It would still be a win for me if only was I able to move freely or if I could put a distance between me and my attackers, but I couldn't. If I took the wrong step to my safety, I would be putting Grimm's cover at risk. Between defending myself and being a human body shield for someone else, I wasn't very lucky.

They were too many, coming out of every angle. I ducked, twisted a soldier's arm, hauled him up and sent him flying across the backyard just as another arm shoved a shiny blade at me. I backflipped at the right second, avoiding the swing of the knife that could have nicely sliced my shoulder, suddenly grateful for the convenient thigh slit of the dress for making me move so freely. Two more ready to pounce on me, I made it to the ground and landed and handspring kick, knocking a soldier's head on a tree while I elbow-smashed the other one in the throat. My good reflexes could only help me for so long before I miss stepped. I was only one second too late to dodge the man who struck me in the chest with his open palm, forcing me backwards. I momentarily lost my balance, tumbling. My back hit the wall.

Two men took this as a chance, heading straight to get me.

My teeth gritted. I plunged my fist into the brick wall I was pressed against. As rocks fell down in crumbles out of the hole I made, I picked out a brick and launched it at the shooting man's face. It hit him squarely in the forehead and he fainted before he took the next step, crumbling to the ground next to his buddies.

There was no time to even breathe out. The other soldier was way too near, advancing with a knife ready to stab me in the face.

But before he could reach me, he froze.

His body jerked mid-run, shuddering violently. The next time I did so much as blink, he was thrown at the wall, his knife in his heart. Like literally in his heart. His heart, that was currently out of his chest, hung limply over his shirt and pierced tauntingly by the blade of his own knife in a twisted/artistic fashion.

Silence had stuffed itself into every corner of this backyard.

Killua's eyes opened very slowly. He turned around very slowly to face Calinda.

"You got your wish," he said, his voice was deadly quiet and I might actually be scared. The lights in the lampposts all around the backyard started flashing on and off. "Now I'm royally pissed off."

I couldn't stop the little smile that tugged at my lips. My face got all shiny and pleased, a face connected to a mouth that kind of wanted to say _That's my man_ in that moment. Because whilst his presence was frighteningly shiver-worthy, him high-tailing it across the mansion when I needed and disposing of my enemies, assassin-style? That was positively hot.

I put my hands on my hips and spoke to Calinda. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Grimm was trembling against the wall, I noticed, staring at the heart-_less_ man beside him with horror-filled eyes, immobile in his shock. How cute. "What―_what are you people?_"

I discreetly glanced at him and put my finger up to my lips in a _shh_ gesture, which only seemed to terrify him even more.

Meanwhile, Calinda didn't look happy to see Killua, but she had masked it very well. Because she could pretend all she wanted that she was standing all nice and strong with her group of protectors in front of Killua. But she could not pretend that her life was hanging by a thread at the moment, and that thread was wrapped around Killua's finger. Because the minute I saw Killua's face, I knew Calinda's mission became a _kamikaze_ mission. The kind you don't come back from.

Calinda scowled. "I need the girl, Killua."

A look passed between the two of them, heavy with understanding and animosity, and I knew… This was not their first meeting. Killua and Calinda knew each other.

I stared at him in silent _What is this_, but he pretended to be ignoring me. What had I missed? What was he not telling me? Was it possible that when I thought I was keeping secrets from him, he had been doing the same all these months?

Killua clenched his jaw. He cast a quick glance around at the men. "Take one step towards her and it'll be the last thing you do."

Everything changed then.

Calinda, with the same kind of reckless determination that put angels in hell, raised her hand in order.

A soldier was heading straight toward him.

Killua knocked him down and ripped his throat out in one fluid movement.

He spread his arm as if it was a piece of cake.

The rest were taken aback by this and rethought their actions, but it was too late to back away.

There was absolute silence.

And then, absolute chaos.

Two men advanced on by Killua's arms-raised figure. To the naked eye, he was unmoving, standing still. But the second the men rushed by him, they were nothing but bloody scraps on the ground. A pile of unattached limbs.

So many men attacked at once, attempting to use their numbers to take advantage and overwhelm him, swinging bats, chains, knives, or hitting with their bare hands, while the rest stayed behind and readied their weapons. Blades flashed, but no one landed a hit on Killua, or even so much as touched him for that matter. All weapons whistled, hitting nothing but danced between their strikes, sweeping his hand in deadly strokes that left one man without an arm, another without a leg, and the other without a head.

One soldier tried to take advantage of the chaos and blindside Killua, heading straight towards me instead.

Bad move.

Two steps were the only action he could take, and probably his last one, because Killua could never be blindsided. He'd vanished from his spot. The soldier was caught by the jaw, and I never felt so afraid for a stranger before. Killua was lifting him off the ground, waiting until the fight in the man's eyes was replaced by fright instead, and broke his neck with a flick of his wrist. Because if you tried to blindside Killua, you wouldn't be allowed the privilege of a quick death, but the misfortune of looking into Killua's eyes as he delivers his judgement on you.

That was when the expression on his face went serenely terrifying, and he sped around the room ripping the hearts out of Calinda's ninja soldiers. Every move he made was precise and graceful, perfectly executed. He was so fluid, so fast. It was like a sinister choreography he never forgot how to master. The scene could almost pass for a really scary interpretative dance.

I was so going to reconsider pissing Killua off next time.

Killua didn't make a sound, not when he struck out, not when he beheaded, impaled, and twisted spines. Through the whole thing, he never raised his voice, never stomped or flailed with gaudy drama. He just went about being his scary, quiet self. It made Zymiral look like a petulant teen and Calinda like a colicky baby. The quiet intensity of his fury was chilling. I could feel the rage pumping off him, saw it in his eyes, but he remained controlled and eerily methodical. He'd disconnected in some way, retreated to a place where he could only observe his body doing serious damage to someone else.

He was at his best when he was pursuing his own lonely, one-man army ruthless and undeniably clever agenda. He had pulled the rug out from under everyone who assumed he was otherwise.

It was a frenzy of violence, one that was almost medieval in its verve. There was something so terrifyingly poetic about moments of slaughter and carnage set to and under the Christmas fairy lights. It was the perfect juxtaposition between peace and misery.

That was what Killua at barely half strength was like, and he was literally unstoppable and untouchable. Just after Killua began to systematically annihilate a hundred mafia goons, it was where Calinda realized what anyone with a half mind had known all along: She could never get what she wanted, not with a grimly determined Zaoldyeck, even if he wasn't technically an assassin on hire still. She could never get to have her wish, not when she stepped on a Zaoldyeck's toes. She could never win, and she only really continued to be alive because Killua wished it so.

And not for long.

He was slowly walking his way to the final kill. I couldn't say I ever cared for Calinda or felt anything towards her, but it was bordering on nauseating to see her backed into a corner, cowering and _crying_, and to know that there was no escape for her; that she was entirely powerless and alone and this would be her last moment on earth – that this was the last place she would ever be – backed into a pitiful corner, Killua's looming figure over her, all of her loyal saviors were bloody scraps, and getting proved that generally, if you picked a fight with the Zaoldyeck's egotistical heir and he approached you in his finest suits, you should get your prayers in order.

I'd seen so many sides of Killua in the past few months:

I'd seen the side of him that was an intriguing mix of contradictions. The side that liked to show off his prodigious talents, but get aggressively uncomfortable when praised for said talents. The side that had an indecent mind, but more culturally sophisticated on a level nobody else was. The side that was an adorable scamp, but could be scary possessive with mad mood swings every now and then. I'd seen the side that came the closest to true intimacy with me that he had ever come, the side that let me see the deep-sated loneliness inside him, showing him all the ways we were the same, the side that was regretful that he got to be alive when his brother didn't, the side that couldn't say the words _I love you_ because he thought they would never be enough…

_This_ was the side when he was ripping the hearts out of these men he had dared to do so much as threaten, that was when he was judging them defective and miserably lopping their heads off, and that was when he was putting the icing on his 'Nope, Still A Merciless Assassin' cake by slowly walking his way to the death of this woman, just to make his point: _Don't fuck with me, because this is what I am and this is what I will deliver unto you._

But that sucked for her. Calinda was supposed to be smarter than this. She should know better than this. For all she would have liked to believe she was strong enough with an army of men would also have known that she was not – no matter how many minions she amassed and sent to fight for you. All it would get you was a lot of your men dead and you kneeling at Killua's feet while he smiled bloodily down on you and mentally designed his crown.

A loud crack sounded, like a blast of thunder, quickly followed by several more in succession. The lights in the lampposts started blinking again. The earth seemed to shake and rumble, ominously setting up the final scene.

Oh my God, Killua was messing with the electricity of the entire estate.

All I could see was the back of his jacket and the tightly clenched fists by his side.

_Run_. His voice came in my head from the earpiece. _Get Grimm out of here and run back inside_.

I whipped around. Falling into my knees where Grimm was. I grabbed his arm, threw it over my shoulders, and stalked away just as the power of the estate cut off by Killua's will.

Curtain closed. Show's over. The last thing I heard was Calinda's earth-shattering scream.

Calinda handed everything over to Killua, her men, her dignity, her life, all except for her another playbook of _spectacularly awful plans_.

* * *

Grimm was still shell-shocked when I helped him inside his own mansion. The ground floor of the mansion was declared unsafe because of the roaming enemy soldiers that could sneak inside any minute, that was why, the floor was evacuated. There was no trace of any party. Buttie, who had been waiting for Grimm's return with a burning candle in his hand, rushed to his side.

"SIR. What have you done?"

Grimm walked past the old man, saying, "Got kidnapped, almost died, watched people die, had my ass saved by a Zaoldyeck."

Buttie couldn't looked more horrified even if he tried.

So I tried, when it was my turn to walk past him, I muttered, "And I may or may not initiated a genocide."

Buttie helped his new leader to the elevator and moved him upstairs where the rest of the guests were hiding. I, on the other hand, had few things to do before catching up with Killua.

I slammed the double kitchen door open and found my staff. They all flinched once they saw me, their faces white and ashen with terror. "What the hell are you all doing in here, you idiots?" I asked with a scowl. "Move upstairs with the guests."

Dormouse answered, "The head butler said we're not allowed―"

"_I_ allow you. Go upstairs. _Now_," I ordered. My eyes suddenly narrowed. "Wait a second, something is not right…" I counted them all, and found they were nine in number instead of ten. My heart dropped into my stomach. "Where's Assquatch?" I demanded, my eyes wide. They all looked at each other, worry itching into their eyes. "I asked you a question, WHERE IS SHE?"

"She's probably still waiting for you to return," Doorknob replied, "where you asked her to wait."

"Goddammit," I muttered. Then I was bolting down the hallway and running back into the hallroom, my eyes scanning the place around me, desperately looking for the blond head I needed to find. I found her by the bar, where I distractedly asked her to stay before leaving for Grimm's room.

I found her, just before she fell into the polished floor with a brutal hit to the head.

I froze in my tracks.

As did the armed soldier who had slammed the butt of his gun to her in the forehead in order to shove her out of his way. He was one of Calinda's men who was lucky enough to still be alive, and he looking for me. My gaze met Assquatch's terrified one, and the man must've noticed the fear that had engulfed me, because the next thing he did was smirk and raise his weapon to Assquatch's head.

He shot her.

A burst of rage consumed me. My scowl deepened and my brow crinkled in a glare, my legs ran across the room on their own. I was on the man in a second, pulling my fist back and punching him the face so hard it knocked him up off his feet just before I took his gun. I aimed, shooting his squarely in the forehead.

A flash of movement from the corner of my eye made me notice another soldier across the room, near the door. He saw the body of his friend, and almost immediately, started lifting his gun at me. But just as he was about to fire, he was smack in the head from behind. My eyes widened when I saw who hit him. It was the man who threatened me in the piano room, the one I knocked out and left with Killua.

Our eyes met, and before I could nod my thanks, he had spun around and took off, stumbling and limping his escape.

I quickly knelt before Assquatch, pressing my hand into the wound on her shoulder to hold back the blood. The rest of the staff arrived from behind me, waiting for orders.

Assquatch looked me in the eye. "You saved my life."

_After I put it in danger._ "You thought I'd let someone else bully you other than me?"

She smiled faintly, effectively distracted from the pain.

A bullet in the shoulder blade was almost harmless, but this girl was neither a hunter or had a good tolerance. I checked the wound. "Okay, she can talk, which means her airway is cleared. Nothing too scary. Does anybody know how to remove a bullet?" I called out loud, and somebody said yes. "Okay, you take care of that and I'll make sure the gates are open so you can take her to a hospital." I looked at Assquatch, who was breathing almost regularly, but slightly unfocused. For the first time since I came here, I asked her, "What's your name?"

"Maddie."

"I met a friend named Maddie when I was out of the city. She is brave and she's got guts. Are you gonna remind me of her? Or are you gonna disappoint me?"

She shook her head with a small smile.

"I knew you weren't, that's why you're going to try and stay conscious until your friends get you safely out of here."

Maddie nodded, swallowing down the pain. I needed her to keep talking.

"What do you say?" I scolded quietly.

"Yes, captain."

I smiled. "Good." Grabbing her good shoulder, I pulled her up to her feet and finally turned to the staff. One of them offered to carry her. "Go upstairs, all of you. When the exit is clear from soldiers, I'll find you. Don't come in here until then."

As they walked their way toward the elevator, I saw Grimm there, watching me from afar this whole time, his expression hard and unreadable.

Once our eyes met, he turned away, walking to his room in a silent demand for me to follow after him.

So I did.

Because I got some band-aid ripping to do.

* * *

Grimm fell with unbreakable ease to his bed and sat, shoulder-hunched, in a pose of surrender and supplication. I had ripped the band-aid and told him everything he deserved to know. It took ten minutes for me to squeeze ten years into my words and draw the not-so perfect picture to Grimm about everything his family, my family, the Zaoldyeck family, had done to our lives.

Grimm opened his eyes and replied with dull shock, "My brother and father… tried to kill you."

"Yes."

"When you were, uh…"

"Seven."

Grimm nodded. His face was sorrowful and high like a new-carved, age-old figurehead. "I don't know what to do," he said. All of his emptiness and hurt was in his voice. All of the way he had been changed both by Zymiral's death and by the horror of tonight's revelations.

Next thing he was standing on his feet. He ripped his jacket off and threw it angrily on the bed.

"Grimm."

"Don't. I need a fucking breather, okay? Please?" he snapped at me. He raked a hand through his hair. "Just an hour ago, I was no body, I was nothing, and now, I'm the leader of an entire mob family. I saw my brother's damned head on the floor, I found out my father was a child murderer, an army of men died right in front of me right after they tried to have my head too, and there is a motherfucking Zaoldyeck in my house. That's a lot of information to take in one hour."

"Trust me. I know how it feels."

"_Trust you?_" he spat. "All I _did_ was trust you! Opened up to you like I never did to anybody, when all you've been trying to do was manipulate me this whole time."

I flinched. Dayum. That kind of hurt.

I could have told him that I manipulated him a lot less than he thought I did, but what was the point? What was the point of mentioning the fraction of sincerity I'd shown him when I was one of the reasons he was robbed from every fraction of a normal life he could have had?

I approached him, carefully, the way you'd approach a wild, wounded animal. "I'm sorry."

His scoff dripped with bitterness. "You're sorry your friend killed my brother?"

"No," I replied meaningfully. "I'm sorry he was your brother. I'm sorry you have to live with this. You don't deserve any of it. You were collateral damage, and I'm sorry for that."

Grimm nodded at the wall, hands clenched. He wanted to hate me, he wanted to hate Killua, but he couldn't. And it was why he was so frustrated and angry. I knew how it felt, when you want to hate someone so badly, but you couldn't because every time you try, your understanding conquers your hate. Grimm could understand because he was a good man, and it was killing him to be so.

"Sir." A voice came from the intercom on Grimm's nightstand that I recognized as Buttie's voice. "Good news and bad news."

Grimm pressed a button, and replied, "Oh fucking please start with the good."

"The enemy's army are all wiped out. There isn't a single one of them anywhere."

Grimm let out an exhale. "What's the bad news?"

Suddenly, brisk wind cooled my skin. I felt the tiny hairs on the back of my neck raise and my heart started racing with sensations of excitement that were similar to sensations associated with danger. Discreetly, I looked around me I wondered_ what _was causing my body to react this way.

"Our army," Buttie said grimly. "Our men…the whole hundredth of them that were summoned by the sirens are all—"

"Taking a nap."

Grimm cut the connection and spun around with a flinch toward the source of the voice who'd finished Buttie's sentence, and came face to face with Killua, who was now all of a sudden standing by the window, face half obscured by the faint glow of the candle.

_Yeah. That's what._

"How did you—" Grimm was staring at Killua with what? Fear? Awe? He stepped to the side as Killua walked with slow, confident steps toward me, his fingers holding his black jacket over his shoulder, his tie loose around his neck and his shirt sleeves rolled up. There wasn't a drop of blood on him. His clothes didn't have much of a wrinkle, either because he was that good or because he smoothed them all down. (I swear, Killua touched his clothes more than he touched me.) Though even as neatly disheveled as he looked, his presence wasn't less intense.

"You threatened people make horrible conversationalists. It's always 'how did you get in here' 'why me' 'kill my wife instead.' Gets old." Killua absently moved to stand next to me and flashed a wolfish smile at Grimm. Those striking eyes shimmered under the dim light of the candles. I sagged at the sound of his voice. Every inch of me became painfully aware of him.

Grimm's eyes narrowed, but he still didn't move an inch. Or maybe couldn't move. Like he was struck by lightning.

Killua had this effect on others, no matter their gender or age. People were too curious to be around him whether they liked it or not, but at the same time, they were afraid to come too close. People approached but kept just a few feet distance from him.

He stopped in front of me and his hand went under my chin, his touch impossibly soft. Such a simple touch, but I felt it all the way to my toes. His spicy and earthy scent surrounded me. His eyes searched all over my face, and I forgot how to breathe. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah." I nodded. I was okay. _He_ was okay. The adrenaline was fading and I was trying to process everything that had happened tonight. "Yeah," I whispered again.

A wry grin twisted his lips.

Grimm cleared his throat. "Don't you know how to make an appearance." He crossed his arms. Had to give it to the boy, he had guts—sort of—to sass at Killua. "It was you who put my men to sleep."

Killua looked at him, and his smile faltered. "And it would be me who would do it again if your men tried to follow us after we get out of here. First time I felt like they should nod it off. I wouldn't rely on my mood next time though, if I were you."

Grimm caught the warning with a nod. His jaw jutted out. "I get it. I wasn't planning on sending anyone after you."

"Well then." Killua looked down at me. "Let's go."

"You were the Zaoldyeck heir, right?" Grimm asked, much to my surprise. And Killua's. "Or you still are, an heir? Like me?" There was a bit of vulnerability underneath his words. Because, I was sure, Grimm had every intention to do like Killua and run away from the title right here and then.

Laughing shortly under his breath, Killua straightened. At his full height, he was a good head taller than Grimm. "No, I'm not. And we're not alike. You and I have nothing in common except for our mutual taste for women."

Grimm snorted delicately. "Or maybe she just has a thing for men in line to succeed."

Killua's eyebrow arched, and oh boy, warning bells went off. That sinister eyebrow was a bad sign. Heat rolled off his body and I tensed all over.

"Okay, I _really_ think we should go," I announced. "Grimm, I'm sorry again."

"I'm sorry, too," Grimm told me. He didn't specify for what, but I understood. "I know I'm supposed to hate you… but I don't."

A slow smile pulled at my lips. "I know. Sorry about that."

"You saved me, in a lot of ways tonight. But truth is…" He paused, exhaling softly. "I'm not sorry that I can't forgive you for what you did."

"I know. I understand."

Then, looking visibly dejected and with a softly-struggled restraint, Grimm added, "I'm also not sorry that I met you."

Killua growled low in his throat. "We're leaving." His warm, strong hand curled around my arm. He turned on his heel and opened the door of the room, taking me along with him.

I tossed Grimm one last smile. "Thanks, Grimm."

I knew it took a lot for him to say what he said to me. Sure, it was pretty clear that he had no hope of changing his mind about us being friends (at least not in the meantime) and there would be nothing to gain in him ranting about the death of his brother or how I used him all night. But still, it had to be tempting to pass judgment. It had to be tempting to be mean and express misgivings and lash out at me. In telling me he was not sorry he met me, that he still treasured the goodness in me, that he was not ashamed to keep it in memory, it was something that I think took a lot of guts.

This was the clearest indication of who Grimm was at his core. He was naive, yes, but that also meant he was gentle and he was forgiving. He wasn't hardened or brittle or half crazy the way someone in his position would probably get with all the ugly things life had thrown at him.

I stopped at the threshold of his room. Because I'd realized I had one last thing to say.

"You have strength in you, Grimm. You still believe. You see good. You choose to see good. I think that's pretty special. You should stick up for that side of yourself. Carry it with you. Don't waste this strength on carrying regrets or burdens. I wasn't lying when I said that I had a blast with you tonight. Inferiority isn't for you. You're special, just the way you are. Don't let anyone make you feel otherwise."

His heavy nod was the last thing I saw before I left.

Grimm and I had toasted to survivors earlier this evening, and now we had to live up to the toast. He had to live with what I caused and I had to live with my truths. There was nothing left to say. We were all victims here, one way or another. There was no excuses or sugar-coated expressions of sympathies that could be exchanged.

That's the thing about surviving. We could do nothing but steel ourselves, turn, walk away, secure in the awful knowledge that we will get better. That we will somehow live through this. That the world will keep turning and that we will keep thinking and feeling and being in it. That we will always survive, independent of anything or anyone else. There will be heaviness to the way we walk away. There will be responsibility to it. There will be independence to it. It's not easy, but it's not impossible either.

"You might have as well exchanged promise rings while you were at it," Killua quipped from beside me as we walked down the mansion hallways. "As I stood there and handed you the ring boxes."

I knew I was supposed to roll my eyes or smack his arm or something for being so ridiculous. That's what I would usually do, but this time, I closed my eyes and smiled. I couldn't not smile at the unabashed haughtiness in his tone. I never thought I'd ever be this thrilled by Killua's unabashed haughtiness.

I stopped him by grabbing his elbow. Turning him around, I pushed his back against the window of the hallway before he realized what I was doing. I leaned in, and he didn't move…or breathe.

I kissed him.

Maybe it was everything that had happened tonight. Maybe it was his snippy little quip. Or maybe because I was grateful he would still be ridiculously and casually afraid to lose me after all the horrific things he learned about me tonight.

I kissed him softly, sliding my hands into the silky locks at the back of his neck and dug in. I didn't care if we were still in a mob mansion. I took my time, paying special attention to his lower lip. He made a sound in the back of his throat, half growl, half moan, and his hands dropped to my waist, pulling me to him and up to my toes. He deepened the kiss, parting my lips. Little shivers of pleasure passed over me. And for a minute there we weren't in such a terrible place, we didn't have terrifying truths hanging over our heads, and I was safe in his arms.

I pulled back. My eyes opened slowly, dazed.

He sighed against my mouth, before I felt his lips curve into a small smile. "Well, I was preparing this whole speech about how jealous I am and it would have overall made me sound petty and churlish. Now I can't remember what I wanted to say."

"Good." I dropped off my toes but kept my hands on him. Touching him was a lot like an exhale after a long holding in of the breath.

He lowered his head, his eyes as deep and soul-penetrating as they stared at my face. I watched in silence as his curious eyes followed his thumb over my chin, and he traced along my now swollen lower lip. "Are you okay? Seriously?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Don't worry about me. It's just…a lot, you know?"

"Everything is going to change." His hand reached behind him to slide the floor-to-ceiling window of the hallway that I'd pressed him against open.

"What do we do now?"

"Now." He kissed me again, smiling a low, tired smile into my mouth. "We go home."

I narrowed my eyes. "You're too chirpy for someone who just had his night ruined and found out his girlfriend is a freak show in the criminal world."

He shrugged a little. "You're okay. I'm happy."

I stared at him, speechless. That might be the sexiest, sweetest, and saddest thing he'd ever said to me. He'd never said that he was happy with me, even in the moments I knew he was. And he certainly never been happy enough to _admit to it_. And the way he had to actually shrug before he could get it out. That was how natural his happiness was to him when I was okay. That at the end of the day, his happiness was directly connected to others and how others felt. That was who Killua was at his core.

He didn't do things by halves. He loved blindly, selflessly and recklessly. Even if it consumed him. Even if he had to give it all he had. That was why it'd always been a wise thing for him to keep the number of people he loved to a minimum. That was why he had to hold back all the time with everyone. He loved with this intensity, with this certainty, this steadfastness. Surviving for him meant the surviving of his loved ones. He would always put the survival - the happiness of his loved ones over everything and everyone else, including himself. He would walk the dark path so the people he loved would walk the bright one. He shied away from saying it out loud, but when he had to, he would show it. He would love and he would want and would always be there… if he didn't have what he needed, that was okay. He would get by. As long as the people he cared about were _okay_.

Basically Killua was all 'Oh there's only one happiness-cookie left? Oh no, I couldn't possibly. Here, you have it, Other Person.'

Next thing I felt his hand around mine, his strong, solid, faintly calloused hand, as he said, "Let's go."

You know these moments you have when you suddenly realize how wonderful something that happened to you is? Despite how badly your day is, that one thing is the only thing that matters. Like you could be walking down the street and it hits you all over again that. Say, you scored higher than the smartest asshole in the class on that one exam, or how you remembered you still have so many new episodes to watch of your favorite show, or how you just recently realized the poems the best friend you're in love with has been writing for three years are all about you, or maybe a rock superstar called you a rock superstar… maybe something like that hits you all over again and you start happily skipping a little on your way to wherever you're going.

That was how Killua made me feel. About him, about myself, all the time.

He was the only person who could pull me back from the edge it felt like I was always up against. That one person who could make me see the error of my ways at the same time as I felt more top-of-the-world, topsy-turvy, strong, solid.

I knew I'd walk a tightrope if he was holding my hand the whole way.

He looked at me. "Come on jum—"

I put both hands on his chest before he finished talking and pushed him down the window. He caught himself swiftly, flipped backward, and landed silently and gracefully on his knee. Peering down, I saw him straightening and looking up at me, his little face shocked and confused.

"Was that really necessary?"

I grinned. "I have to check on the staff. I'll be there in a minute."

Even if I found out I was some kind of freak in the criminal world, I would use it to my advantage – I would _own _it. I would keep it together when everyone else would fall apart. I would have all the balls. I wasn't going to let the past make my decisions. Because I got something better than that, standing right in front of me, and I would be damned if I was going to let other people take it away.

* * *

Killua waited for me in the car as I went to check on Maddie before leaving the mansion for good. She and the staff hid in the piano room. Her shoulder was bullet-free and wrapped in bandages. I told them the gates were open, so they should rush her to the hospital just in case. They told me she was better. She just needed better stitching and some rest.

The staff parted to make room for me to walk. I dropped on one knee before Maddie's chair.

"Pen." I wiggled my fingers and someone from behind put a pen in my palm. Taking Maddie's forearm, I wrote on the inside of it as I said, "When you get alive out of here, and you will, you call this number. I have a better job offer for you."

Her smile was a straight, grateful line. "Thank you. Hey, captain?" she called once I started to walk out. "Say hello to your friend for me."

I scoffed a little. "I never had a friend named Maddie. But now I do," I added, and felt even better when she smiled again. "Don't forget to give me a call." I glanced around the room at the rest of the waitstaff and told them to take care of themselves.

I finally walked out of the mansion.

* * *

I slipped my arms into the sleeves of Killua's jacket and flicked my hair out of the collar. Killua had been quiet since we got inside the Imapa, his thoughts a million miles away. He was driving with tight focus, looking tired and young; I knew he was lost in his own mind, and I wanted in, so I tried to sneak my way in. "Do you have an idea why Zymiral locked himself in his room for so long? What was it that he saw during his father's murder that made him so scared to see people?"

"My guess is that his father's killer wasn't just anyone. It was someone the Family didn't wish to be encountered with."

"Like the Zaoldyecks?" I asked, and he nodded. "Could the killer be a member of your family?"

Even in the dim glow of the streetlight, I saw him go pale. He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. "It's possible."

I twisted in my seat and stared at him for long seconds. Something was off, something was not quite right about him. But whatever it was, I couldn't see it. Yet. "Something is going on in your head. You suspect something. _Tell me_."

He looked in my direction without actually looking at me, then he sighed. "Zymiral was scared of you more than he was scared of me. It's a long shot in the dark, but I suspect that there is a link between you and the mystery killer of his father. You two could be related in a way."

Without thinking, I asked, "Blood related?"

Killua glanced at me and quickly noticed the way my face froze with sheer horror. His eyes froze on my face, blinking, blinking, blinking. Then he laughed. He threw his head back into the seat in abandoned playfulness and laughed, his dark eyes sparkling with humor. "You're not my long lost sister, Yuki. We're not starring in a soap opera."

"Could we not laugh please. And maybe we are. Except with better acting and crazier twists," I muttered. "I could be your cousin."

"I don't have cousins. Both my parents are only children." Killua looked back at the road and clamped his mouth shut, and I could tell he was fighting back laughter. "We're not even sure the killer of Papa Zymiral is a Zaoldyeck. And I know my family tree very well. You're not in there. It's impossible. Not to mention gross," he said, shooting me a sly glance. "I did…things to you that should not be done to someone you're related to."

I pretended to stare out my window to hide my now flushed face. "Can we go back to the main problem please?"

"Sure." A smile filled his voice.

What he was implying all along could mean one thing… "Do you think I could be adopted?"

"I don't know, but that will be easy to figure out by tracking the Kudos' archives and hospital charts. The Zymirals saw a potential threat in you when you were little. They warned the Kudos of it. They wanted to protect the Kudos from you, but your family probably refused to give you up. When the Zymirals saw that your family was being uncooperative, they hired my family to do the job."

"The job being to get rid of me." But the question still remained: why the Zaoldyecks in particular? Zymiral said that I was a peace offering—some sort of peace could be achieved with the Zaoldyecks by giving them the privilege to end my life. This was why Illumi Zaoldyeck was trying to reach out for me. His family didn't protect me for nothing, they needed me alive for a reason. There was a price to it. And he would make sure I paid that price.

God, it was true that I was something bigger than I thought I was. Cash was right. Not sure I wanted any of this potential power. I was good being lame and ordinary-ish.

When we pulled out into traffic, Killua's hand reached over and lightly slapped my knee. "Stop over-thinking."

"I'm not. Go away."

"You blink when you lie."

I groaned. "I hate that my eyelids are a freaking human lie detector."

He paused, a tight smile pulling at his lips, all the while he hadn't taken his eyes off the road. "Whatever the answers are, you were a child. It wasn't your fault. This was the world you were born into, one that was filled with crime and greed. You didn't choose any of it. You only get to start to choose now and nothing is behind you that you can't fix." He lost his smile, his gaze suddenly distant and unfocused, as if he were seeing something I couldn't. "Sometimes you can't go back," he muttered. "Fixing is impossible. You just have to face the consequences and own your choices."

Nodding, I looked down. That was when I noticed his skin color from a glimpse of his hand on my leg, and my eyes couldn't believe what I saw. I couldn't believe it was his hand, that it was possible for somebody to be this… pale. I looked at him, shocked to see that he'd grown ever paler than he was three minutes ago.

My hands touched his face, startling him. His skin was too cold. His jaw was clenched too tight, his forehead too clammy. "Killua," I breathed, worry shooting into my heart. A knot formed in my throat and my chest tightened, cutting off my voice. "Why are you—What the hell is—What's happening to you? And if you say 'I'm fine' I'm going to hurt you."

Pulling away from my hands, he returned to his seat, breathing raggedly. He clutched the steering wheel for several strained minutes. There was a pause and my heart stuttered. "I'll tell you, but don't freak out."

"What's going on?"

Killua's throat worked. "The poison inside me was supposed to take approximately four months to wear out, but I didn't want to wait that long. I didn't want to sleep on my lack of aura, that's why in the past three months I've been doing some exercises to force the poison out of my pores. It was a risky and painful process." He paused, leaned back in his seat, and stared at the clock on the dash. "Tonight when I cut the power off the mansion, I'd used up too much aura that I was supposed to when I'm still in recovery. That's why… I'm about to lose my consciousness in less than ten minutes."

Icy fear shot through me as I gaped at him. "_What?_"

When I continued to gape at him, he grimaced. "You said you wouldn't freak out."

"I didn't say I wouldn't get _angry_!"

"Hey, it's fine," he cajoled. "I overestimated my recovery and now I'm running out of energy, it happens all the time. I just have to sleep it off."

"Why would you even _assume_ you could fight the poison all alone without—" Eyes wide, I dug into my hair and took a deep breath. "God, Killua. That's why you locked yourself in your room for a week."

He stared straight ahead, hands clenching at the steering wheel. His eyes churned. "They were trying to get you. I was angry. I wasn't supposed to lose temper but I couldn't control it. I couldn't think clearly. I don't care what I had to do to steer you away and I would do it again."

My world just got a little more insane, but I could deal with mob soldiers trying to kill me, I could deal with mob leaders trying to shame me, I could not deal with Killua playing fast and loose with his life so that I could have nice things.

Of course, I showed him how angry I was. With a long rant. And with no apology. I went all rage elephant. Yelled out my guilt and worry at him all the way back to the hotel. I altered between cursing him, calling him names, touching him all over, and scoffing, "How freaking typical", calling him names, touching him all over… and how through all this car ride he didn't think he needed to fill me in on the fact that he wasn't _okay_ himself. I mean, really, what was he going to do? Help us escape the mansion, take me home, applaud while I wolfed the happy toast down and then go somewhere quiet to wither into a corpse-like form and hope nobody noticed?

Killua responded to my scolding fest mostly with silence, sometimes he resisted rolling his eyes, sometimes he even dared to smile or say, "Stop it, Yuki. You know how I get when you're feisty."

His dirty humor soothed a weird ache within me at the same time I wanted to thump him upside the head.

Though jokes aside, this was bad. This was so bad. The ten minutes were running out. To a casual observer, he looked calm and collected. It was something he'd perfected along the years, a cool presence, like he had it all and all under control. But right now, his body was breaking, failing him. It was dangerously cooling off from the inside. He was still breathing, but it was growing heavier by the second. His body was (literally) like a machine rapidly running out of battery. I was surprised he could hold on this long.

Finally, we pulled up to the hotel. The valet opened the door for me, and greeted us by the name as Killua got out and rounded the hood, his color looking much worse now. There was a sheen of sweat on his face. The gleaming car was moved out of the drop-off driveway before we walked through the automatic doors. As we walked through the crowd, Killua stumbled.

Oh hell, Killua never stumbled.

Taking his hand, I dragged him behind me, muttering excuse-mes as I pushed through the crowd to make room for us. As we reached the bank of elevators, I wasted no time and stabbed repeatedly into the call button.

"Doing that won't make it come faster," Killua said from beside me, then a sudden slow grin appeared on his tired face, flashing me his teeth. "Actually, that's what she—"

"Don't even finish that sentence," I warned. "Really, Killua? Perving even when you're about to faint? Really?"

"Too soon?"

I knew he was making the situation lighter but it didn't work on my nerves. According to him, there was only four minutes left before he could no longer stand. Because of course Killua knew the exact time when he could no longer stand.

"Lean on me if you can't walk okay?"

He stopped smiling. He looked annoyed at my question all of a sudden. I knew it was because he was embarrassed by his lack of equilibrium and showing a little weakness. He attempted a shrug. "I can walk just fine."

I didn't want him to put too much pressure on himself, so I gave him a small smile.

"Don't do that," he said, frowning.

"Do what?"

"Give me your pity smile."

"Actually," I clarified, "this is my you're-badass smile. There's a difference."

"Huh," he said, squinting. "Looks almost exactly like your pity smile."

"Obviously you're a little rusty on reading my smiles."

The elevator finally signaled its arrival and the doors opened. Once we were inside the car, Killua let his composure lose. As I was pressing the button to our floor, I saw from the corner of my eye the way he staggered back and blindly reached out with his hand, his fingers gripping the brass handrail. He cursed softly.

I winced, the knot was growing bigger in my throat. Turning around, I went back to him and popped the first button of his shirt to give him room to breathe. "Just a little bit. Hold yourself up a little bit. Can you tell me how you're feeling?" I asked, untying the knot of his tie.

"I feel…" He took a deep conscious breath. "I feel like every bone, every muscle and ever nerve in my body are falling asleep."

My chest ached at the thought of him carrying that kind of pain—pain that shouldn't belong to him. With trembling fingers, I yanked at the knot of his tie, pulling the loosened silk all the way down one side and using it to wipe the thin layer of sweat that was breaking out on his face and hairline. His eyes closed. His heart was beating slower. His skin was growing colder. All my rage at him dissipated. A stirring of sour guilt poked at me, telling me that hadn't been because of me, he would have had a better, happier, and healthier Christmas Eve.

A dull, stabbing pain flared behind my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "God, Killua, I'm so sorry."

Killua's eyes opened to frown down at me. "Why would you apologize?"

"I…I'm just sorry for everything…I dragged you into this."

He held my gaze for a beat and then looked away, laughing tiredly under his breath. There was no humor in the throaty sound, and I wondered if I'd said something wrong. Probably. "Keep talking like that, beastie, and I…" His forehead dropped to mine and leaned on me so heavily that I backed up a step, but I managed to catch us both. He was so close that if he tilted his head a tiniest bit our lips would touch. Eyes ahead, he lowered his head as if to kiss me. Instead, he closed his eyes and snuggled my neck, sending my entire system into overload.

"Shh. Don't talk. It's making you more tired."

"Aren't you bossy?"

"Shut up and take deep breaths so you can stay awake. How's that for bossy?"

He gave me a lopsided closed-eye smile. "I love it."

The moment the car reached our floor, I took his hand and walked him to the door of the suite, fumbling for a moment with the keycard because I was too nervous he was going to faint before we reached his bed. Kicking the door open, I propped him against the inside of the stationary half of the double-door entrance with a hand in the middle of his chest to keep him balanced as I quietly closed the door upon realizing Gon and his aunt were asleep.

Killua started slumping against the door, but I caught him before he hit the floor, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to steady him upright. "Jeez, Killua," I breathed, "Please help me out. Don't fall on me before I get you into bed."

His brow furrowed. "Yuki, I… look, I'm flattered but I'm tired. Maybe later?"

"You're hilarious. Come on," I said as I pried him off the door, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and steering him into the living room. He was heavy and ungainly, and it took a lot of my strength just to keep him moving.

He swayed and for a hideous second, I thought he was going to finally pass out and land on top of me, but thankfully he opened his eyes, which seemed to give him a little more equilibrium. I pulled him inside his bedroom, grunting under his weight as we staggered through the door.

When he was seated safely on the bed, I knelt between his legs and unbuttoned his shirt with shaky hands. I couldn't believe how flushed his neck and chest were, how cold they were to the touch. The heat provided by his aura was completely leaving his body. Nothing was left inside him but cold, vicious poison. He was watching me with hooded eyes, every bit of energy he'd lost showing on his face.

But I looked down. Never in my life had I felt more useless, more guilty. I wanted to undo tonight. I wanted to undo everything that caused him pain, including me. I'd always thought it was his past that drove a wedge between us, but it made more sense that it was mine.

"Can I be serious for a moment?" His voice had dropped until it was an almost soundless rasp.

"Didn't I ask you not to talk?" I tugged his shirt open, still avoiding to look at him. "You can be serious tomorrow."

"Tomorrow I wouldn't have the courage." His hands stopped mine, holding them flat over the rock-solid ridges of his stomach. Finally, I gazed up. Our eyes locked. His gaze into my eyes was so intense despite how tired he looked. It pinned me to my spot and I couldn't move, could hardly breathe. "It hurt like hell the last time I lost you. I couldn't do that again. I can't. That's why if I could rewind tonight a thousand times—no, if I could rewind my life a thousand times, I would choose to save you every time," he said, his voice gruff. "You're the better half of me. Every time I would save you."

My heart swelled in my chest. "You can still say this to me after tonight? After what you heard about me?"

He placed two fingers under my chin, tipping my head back. "I will always be in love with you. This is not going to change tonight or because of anybody's words or expectations. I will be more in love with you an hour from now, a day from now, ten years from now. Okay?"

He slumped to his back into sleep, and I was left reeling, shocked endlessly, achingly, deliciously, by his words.

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter is all kinds of feels. But it was good-feels at the end, the warm and fuzzy kind. Do you still hate me now?

Visit my tumblr for teasers, treats, questions, and updating schedules. I'm going to try _real_ hard to update one more time before my exams in June because next chapter is more on the light, fluffy side. You will know more details about the poison in Killua's aura with the help of a fan favorite character whose name starts with L and ends with oreo. I mean eorio.

Please review _if_ you can and tell me stuff, here or on my tumblr. The crazier the merrier. Always.

Stay sexy got old. So, stay flawless.


End file.
